


Scotch and Puddle Water

by radioqueen



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Brief animal cruelty, Co-experiencing someone's rape via supernatural connection, Crying, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Forced Incest, Forced Piss Drinking, Forced to Rape Loved Ones, Forced to live out darkest fantasies, Hurt/Comfort, I checked with recip first, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jealous sociopath forcing crush to rape their loved ones as foreplay, Large Cock, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mind Control, Nipple Piercings, Nonconsensual Piercing, Omorashi, Panic Attacks, Parent/Child Incest, Pissing on victim to establish dominance, Rape Aftermath, Raped In Front of Loved Ones, Seizures, Shibari, Sibling Incest, Topping from the Bottom, Torture, Vague allusion to pregnancy in epilogue, Victim Partially Resisting Mind Control, Watersports, forced dirty talk, stun gun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-06-29 17:06:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 40,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15733749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radioqueen/pseuds/radioqueen
Summary: AKA "Damien Noncons Everyone." Sequel to "The Old-Fashioned Way"/canon divergence where Damien ties Caleb up in Safe House Pt. I.I tagged my warnings extensively! This is about rape and torture! Read this at your own risk!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [plutonianshores](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plutonianshores/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Old-Fashioned Way](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14973686) by [radioqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/radioqueen/pseuds/radioqueen). 



> A HUGE thank you to my absolutely amazing beta, El, who has fixed my typos in all ~40,000 words of this insanity. Any remaining typos are my own, and I probably put them in after it was betaed.

Chloe didn’t realize she’d passed out again until she startled back to consciousness to find Frank lifting her out of Damien’s backseat. Her head was still killing her, and her body was sore from Damien forcing himself and Frank on her. Chloe groaned in pain and tried to touch the lump on her head where Damien had struck her, but she found her wrists had been bound in front of her with some kind of soft rope. She wished again that her mom was there.

"All right." Damien cracked his knuckles. "Let's have some fun."

Chloe blinked in the blinding glare of the porch light as Frank cradled her to his stomach. They were outside Sam’s safe house.

“Oh no,” Chloe said. “Frank, did you warn them?”

Frank shook his head apologetically. He followed Damien up to the front door and rapped on it.

From inside, Caleb asked, “Who is that?”

Frank covered Chloe’s mouth and shouted, “Sam, it’s us! Chloe’s hurt real bad. Let us in, please!”

The door quickly opened, and Frank carried Chloe in.

“Oh my god, Chloe! What happened?”

“Damien hit her with a lamp.”

“What?!”

“Oh my God, are you okay, Chloe?”

Damien had waited a moment before following them in, and the room was so distracted by Chloe’s injury that it took a moment before anyone noticed he was there.

“Damien!” Mark exclaimed at last.

The rest of the room scrambled away from Damien, and their collective freak-out was so loud in Chloe’s pounding head that she raised her bound hands to cover her head. Damien swung a plastic shopping bag from hand to hand, eyeing the room’s occupants with amusement. Frank gently laid Chloe on the couch, kissing her forehead. Chloe agreed with his thought—the two of them had already spent enough time thinking about Damien to deserve a little break from it.

“Oh, goody, the gang’s all here,” Damien sneered.

”Damien—” Mark moved toward him.

“Nope!” Damien held a hand up, and everyone froze in place. “Nobody move an inch, _capisce?_ No one say a word.”

“That’s not how this works anymore—” Mark tried again, but it was useless.

“Stop fighting me on this, Mark!” Damien said through gritted teeth. “I’ve been doing this longer than you. I _will_ win.”

Joan’s thoughts were an uncharacteristically terrified swirl, but she still spoke up. “Damien, just leave. We can’t do anything for you—”

“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong. You, emo kid—you’re coming with me.”

“No way!” Caleb protested.

“Aw, looks like someone’s grown up a little bit since I last saw him.” Damien grinned.

Chloe propped herself up with effort. “Damien, just go away.”

“No. And you should know better by now than to talk to me like that.”

Frank’s fists trembled as he tried to resist Damien. “You’re lucky you’re still breathing after what you did to her.”

“Oh, please. She’s fine.” Damien rolled his eyes. “Boy, there sure is a lot of macho energy in this room right now, isn’t there? And yet, look at you all, just standing there, totally in my control.”

“Not all of us,” Chloe said.

“What’re you gonna do? Hit me with a lamp? We did that one already, sweetheart. Let’s move on.”

Chloe grimaced at the memory of Damien hitting her with Joan’s lamp and then raping her on the office floor. And now he was here, planning to do God knew what to her friends—

“Wait, Damien raped you?” Mark blurted out.

Joan and Sam gasped. Caleb clung even more tightly to Adam’s hand. Frank flinched. Chloe really wished Mark hadn’t said anything, because their combined horrified and outraged thoughts were a lot to process all at once.

“Is that true?” Joan asked, but Chloe knew the question was directed at Damien, not her.

“Oh, don’t get your panties in a bunch,” Damien said. “She’s fine. We had a little heart-to-heart on your office floor.”

Chloe had never heard Joan’s thoughts so angry before.

“Damien.” Joan’s nostrils were flaring. “I had rock bottom expectations for you, and somehow you’ve _still_ managed to disappoint me.”

“Seriously,” Mark added. “I was rooting for you to become a better person! But you’ve really crossed a line, Damien. I don’t know if you can come back from this, like as a person, but I do know I don’t want _anything_ to do with you ever again, even if you do change. You need to leave. Now.”

Damien’s facial expression oscillated between hurt and confusion, and Chloe wished for just a minute that she could read his mind. Then his face settled on rage, and Chloe was almost as afraid as she’d been while getting raped by Damien’s gun.

“Oh, I’ve _crossed a line,_  have I?” Damien asked quietly. “We’ll see about that. Tie your friends up. Leave your time-traveling bitch of a girlfriend for last.”

He tossed the plastic bag onto the floor, sending rope and duct tape spilling out. Mark reluctantly took the rope coils and tied everyone’s wrists—except for Sam’s. Without a word from Damien, Mark undressed Sam while she shivered. Caleb cried into the rug, thinking about how overwhelmed he was by the helpless, distressed feeling dominating the room.

“Enough, Damien,” Chloe said. “You’re scaring the kids.”

“Aw, I wouldn’t want to do that,” Damien said. “Luckily, I came prepared. I didn’t know how ugly this might get.”

He pulled out two scarves and tied one each around Caleb’s and Adam’s heads as blindfolds. That only made them more scared, but they were both mentally begging Chloe not to say anything in case Damien did something even worse. She stayed silent.

“There we go,” Damien said. “Wouldn’t want you kids to see anything R-rated without your mommy or daddy’s permission.”

Meanwhile, Mark was wrapping the rope around Sam in an elaborate design that lifted her breasts and created a pentagram over her chest above them. Sam glanced down at his handiwork as he stepped behind her to bind her arms.

 _‘Ooh, this is more punk than anything I’ve ever done,’_ Sam thought. _‘I hope no one notices—well, maybe they’ll think it’s because it’s cold. But seriously, in another context, like if I wasn’t completely terrified Damien was about to rape me, this rope stuff would be really, really, really hot. Too bad it’s not just me and Mark...’_

“No kidding,” Mark muttered.

“What?” Sam asked. “Oh, right. Mind reading.”

“Am I hurting you?” Mark asked.

“No. It’s snug, but it doesn’t hurt.”

“Good,” he said. “Sorry, it’s been… God, at least six years since I did this. And I never really got past the basics.”

“It’s fine,” Sam assured him. “You’re not hurting me. It’s… pretty. I just hope someone’s around to help when I need to pee.”

Chloe rubbed her legs against the sofa, suddenly realizing she very much did need to take care of that need.

“Damien, I really need to use the bathroom,” Chloe said.

“Quiet!” Damien was engrossed in watching Mark work. “I’ll let you go when I’m done.”

“And… _when,_ exactly, will that be?” Chloe asked.

“You can go when I say you can go!” Damien snapped. “Stop talking.”

“Or what?” Chloe rolled her eyes. “You’ll point another unloaded gun at me?”

“I _said_ _,_ ‘Be quiet!’” Damien flew at her so suddenly Chloe jerked as far back against the couch as she could. He pulled something from his pocket and jammed it into Chloe’s hip.

Chloe screamed, more from the unexpected loud noise at first, and then quickly from the pain seizing through her hip.

“Stop!” Frank and Mark (and probably everyone else) were urging Damien to stop.

When he finally did, Chloe thrust her bound hands between her legs to keep from wetting herself. She only narrowly avoided an accident. She looked down through watering eyes, expecting her side to be raw and pink. But there was no sign of whatever he had done to her, aside from two tiny marks.

Damien held a stun gun in front of her eyes and pushed the button, making it spark blue right in front of Chloe’s face. She flinched away from it.

“Not so high and mighty now, huh?” Damien asked. “Maybe I should have used that on you from the start. Now. _Apologize_.” He sparked the device again, this time just above her right breast, leaving no doubt about what would happen if she didn’t.

That was enough to get Chloe babbling apologies like she had no pride whatsoever. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry for questioning you Damien, I won’t do it again, I promise, I’m sorry, I’ll wait until you say I can use the bathroom.”

“Good girl.” Damien patted her head like she was a dog. “I’ll take you for a walk soon.”

Frank nearly exploded at that, but Chloe put her bound hands on his shoulder.

 _‘He’s out of control,’_ Joan thought.

 _‘Fuck, this is all my fault, fuck,’_ Mark thought as he tied off the ropes around each of Sam’s thighs. “Damien, you can’t keep us all in line forever. You’re straining it already. Just leave.”

“Nah,” Damien said. “Not until I show you what ‘crossing a line’ looks like. Besides, now that everyone’s tied up, I don’t have to worry about controlling anyone but you.”

It was true. Mark could barely twitch without Damien's permission, but Chloe could feel that Damien was only influencing everyone else enough to keep them from straight up tackling him despite their bonds, and that didn’t take much.

“You’re being an idiot,” Mark said. “Don’t you remember what happened last time?”

Damien shrugged. “I’m stronger now. Besides, I know how to feel your wants now. I don’t think you’ll fight me once your wants and mine… align. But just to be safe…”

He unzipped Frank’s backpack and pulled out the bottle of scotch from Joan’s office. He opened the bottle and sniffed it. “Ahh, good stuff, Dr. B.” He took a swig. “You want the first sip?”

Joan narrowed her eyes. “Sure, Damien. Why not?”

Damien placed the bottle in her bound hands. She raised it to her lips and took a sip.

“Come on, Doc! More than that,” Damien said. “You wouldn’t want to accidentally resist me or anything, would you?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Joan’s voice was as dry as her scotch. She gulped down several swallows without changing her facial expression, keeping eye contact with Damien the whole time.

“Damn.” Damien took the bottle back. “That’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen you do.”

Joan wiped her mouth on the back of one hand. “I’m flattered.”

“You’re next.” Damien handed the bottle to Mark. “Drink up.”

Mark gulped the scotch like he was dying of thirst, but he screwed up his face and coughed periodically.

“That’s good,” Damien said after Mark had downed a few shots. “Okay, who’s next? Soldier boy and the empath kid are nice and obedient. I can’t control telepath girl no matter how much she drinks. I mean, probably. So… eenie meenie minie moe—ah, _Sam: the prettiest, most perfect-est time traveler!_ Here, have some scotch.”

Sam looked panicked. “But I hate scotch!”

“Maybe, but you really wanna drink a whole bunch anyway.”

“I—” Sam was confused to realize she did. “I guess so.”

Damien pushed the bottle to her lips and tipped it. Sam coughed and gagged, spilling half of it down her breasts.

“Stop wasting it,” Damien said.

“Trying,” Sam croaked.

“Ugh. Mark, you can clean her up if you want.”

Mark _did_ want that, and it didn’t seem to Chloe like Damien was even making him want it.

 _‘Hey, can you blame me?’_ Mark thought as he lapped scotch off Sam’s breasts and stomach.

_‘I guess not.’_

Damien knelt by Adam, who opened his mouth. “Good boy,” Damien said as he poured a little scotch into Adam’s mouth.

“Damien, you need to leave,” Joan said.

“Do you not get how this works?!” Damien turned to glare at her. “I want stuff and it happens. And you are _powerless_ to stop me.”

“I may be powerless right now,” Mark said, “But so help me, if you touch Sam, or anyone here—”

“Don’t worry,” Damien said. “I’m not gonna touch Sam. I know she belongs to you.”

Despite the misogyny, Sam liked that and felt warm and safe from it. _‘Yeah, that’s right!’_ she thought in relief. _‘I’m Mark’s. He loves me! The second Damien tries to do anything remotely unpleasant to me, Mark will be able to break free!’_

Joan, Frank, and Mark, however, were already fearing the worst—that Damien was going to force Mark to violate Sam, and that Mark wouldn’t be able to fight back this time.

“What’s the plan here, Damien?” Mark asked. “What are you trying to do?”

“I’m giving you a little present,” Damien said. “See, Chloe asked a really thought-provoking question at Dr. B.’s office, and it made me realize—”

“What was the question?” Joan asked, her mind clicking into therapist mode.

“DON’T interrupt me when I’m talking!” Damien fumed. “God, you people really need to learn some respect! Great, now I lost my train of thought. Everyone stay put.”

Damien stomped off and scoped out the house, apparently satisfying himself that there were no tricks or traps for the gang to spring on him. Mark stood frozen in place, but the rest were free to crawl or wiggle across the floor to better locations. Caleb and Adam huddled close to each other in the corner behind Joan, who sat protectively in front of them even as she internally lamented how powerless she was to protect anyone. Sam shuffled on her knees toward Chloe and Frank.

“Chloe, are you okay?” Sam asked.

“My head really hurts,” Chloe said, feeling like a broken record.

“And the rest of you?” Sam’s anxiety was audible. “Like… how are you psychologically?”

“I’ll live,” Chloe said. “But guys, he was _really_ sadistic. I knew he was trouble, but… I honestly didn’t know he was capable of that kind of cruelty.”

“Yeah, I can see and hear what he did,” Mark said. “Fuck. He’s completely off the rails.”

“This is bad,” Joan said. “Mark, you have to try to stop him.”

“Uh, yeah, Joanie, no shit,” Mark said. “What do you think I’ve been trying to do?”

Adam curled up against a sobbing Caleb. “Caleb, babe, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“I don’t feel good.” Caleb hid his face in Adam’s shirt. “I feel all sick and woozy and… awful. It’s like emotionally getting stabbed under your fingernails over and over and over again.”

“I’m sorry. That sounds awful.” Adam took Caleb’s bound hands in his own. “Try to feel my feelings instead.”

“I can’t… fuck! It just hurts so bad, Adam!”

“Yeah, Frank and Chloe are _not_ in a good mental place right now,” Mark said. “The rest of the room is pretty rough, too, but Chloe and Frank are like, giant beacons of mental pain.”

“Sorry,” Chloe said.

“It’s not your fault,” Joan said.

“Yeah, don’t be sorry,” Mark said. “It’s just a whole lot to feel at once, especially with two empaths in the room. Three, if you count me. The angst feedback is off the charts, and it’s only getting worse as the alcohol kicks in. God.”

Damien returned with two beers, and the room fell silent. They all _wanted_ to be silent; it was such a weird thing to hear from all of them at once.

Damien popped the bottle caps off on the wooden edge of Sam’s new couch. “The question Chloe asked me,” he said dramatically, handing a bottle to Mark, “was, ‘What makes someone deserve to be raped?’ And like I told her, being a total bitch and kicking someone while they’re down definitely qualifies, but Chloe wasn’t the only one doing that. So I realized, why should she be the only one who gets taught a lesson? The way I see it, Sam and Dr. B. were just as shitty to me when I was powerless. Probably more. I mean, Sam fucking _punched me in the nose!_  And rather than looking out for me, Dr. B. straight up said it was Sam’s _finest moment._  That’s pretty shitty of the two of you, don’t you think?”

Sam bit her lip, seriously regretting that moment. Joan, on the other hand, regretted nothing, and her expression said so even more than her mind.

“So anyway, a little birdie—named Frank—told me on the ride over here that Sam hadn’t put out yet.” Damien took a sip of beer as Sam and Frank both looked ashamed. “Which was kind of a shock, because if _I_ were dating Mark… Well, I just figured, ‘Hey! Why not give the lovebirds a little nudge?’ Use my powers for good, or whatever. I mean, what greater good is there than getting my pal Mark laid after two years in a coma? Not to mention the other three years in prison, or whatever. He deserves some filthy, kinky sex with his girlfriend, and I’m gonna make sure he gets it! They should saint me.”

“Damien, I’m serious,” Mark said. “Please, for the love of God, don’t make me hurt Sam.”

“Relax.” Damien patted Mark’s back. “You’re not gonna kill her or anything. Where’s the fun in that? You’re just gonna do some of that kinky torture stuff you like. Just enough to get you off.”

Caleb and Adam cowered behind Joan. Sam’s anxiety rose a little, but Chloe was way more concerned by how much Mark’s anxiety suddenly increased. She was starting to realize Sam and Mark had vastly different ideas about Mark’s level of kinkiness.

“I don’t want to get off on Sam getting hurt,” Mark said.

“Sure ya do!” Damien clapped Mark on the back a little harder. “I can feel your wants, remember? I think we both know you wanna hurt Sam at least a _little._  So I’m gonna be a good friend and give you exactly what you want, based on my extensive knowledge of your recent porn habits.”

Mark’s thoughts went extra cold and scared at that. “And what is it you think I want, exactly?”

“You’ve got that restless, cranky want,” Damien said. “It’s like when I want a cigarette, no matter how disgusting and unhealthy I know it is. That’s the same kind of want you used to get right before watching some really fucked up porn on the hotel wifi.”

“Gee, thanks, Damien.” Mark reddened slightly. “I appreciate you telling my friends and sister about my porn likes.”

“Hey, they’re about to see it firsthand, so no point in being all secretive.” Damien took another sip of beer. “Drink up.”

Mark finished his beer mechanically, his thoughts spiraling into straight-up panic in the silence. _‘Fuck! Everyone will know. Everyone will see me hurt Sam and know. And Sam will know, and exactly how far is Damien planning to take this? What if I really, seriously hurt her? Fuck!’_

 _‘It sure is hard to breathe in here,’_ Frank was thinking. _‘Mark and Caleb are real distressed. Chloe feels good though. She’s sad, but she’s all calm and collected. Dr. Bright is calm too. More like… thinking. Her feelings usually feel real nice, like the cool side of the pillow. I’m glad she and Chloe are here. But I don’t know how we’re gonna get out of this.’_

 _‘What all weird porn did I watch while Damien was in the room?’_ Mark thought frantically. _‘It was mostly standard kink stuff, right? Oh God, did I watch the Queensnake stuff when I was here, or was that when I was with Damien? I think it was with Damien. Fuck, fuck, fuck.’_

Sam was blissfully oblivious to the potential physical pain headed her way. _‘Maybe I should try to time travel. But I don’t want to time travel. That’s weird. Is that Damien? Or is it because I’m scared I’ll take Mark with me and accidentally lose him in the past? That’s a horrifying thought. Would I rather trap Mark in the past or let Damien rape us? Ugh, what a shitty choice.’_

Joan was thinking in her shorthand, a set of abstract shapes and symbols that was a very logical way of thinking—for Joan. But it was making it hard for Chloe to follow along. Joan’s analytical brain was analyzing everyone and trying to formulate a plan. It made Chloe’s headache worse to listen, so she quickly tuned it out.

Caleb was the biggest wreck of anyone in the room. _‘This is awful, I don’t want to be here, everyone is so upset and Damien feels so freezing, like a burning kind of cold. I’m so scared and I hate being tied up and blindfolded and everyone is so upset! I wanna throw up! I hate this, this is awful, I don't want to be here...’_

Adam was just terrified, clinging to Caleb and whispering soothing things to him that Caleb barely heard. “It’s okay, babe. It’s going to be okay. I’m here. Just breathe. We’re all going to be okay.” He didn’t really think it was going to be okay, but he didn’t know what else to say to Caleb.

“Damien, _stop."_  Joan gritted her teeth. “There are children here. And look how distraught Mark is.”

“You should really move the empaths to another room,” Chloe spoke up. “Mark will be less upset if Caleb and Adam and Frank are in another room.”

“Yes, please.” Mark’s shoulders sagged. “Between reading everyone’s thoughts _and_ emotions, I feel like my head is about to explode.”

“Okay, fine,” Damien acquiesced. “Mark, drag the jock and the soldier over to that closet in the kitchen and put a chair under the doorknob. That’s far enough away they won’t mess with your ability, right? Thirty-three feet, or whatever?”

“Just eyeballing, but yep, that oughta do it,” Mark said coolly. “Sorry, Caleb.”

Mark dragged a weeping and blindfolded Caleb across the tile floor to the kitchen broom closet, where Caleb was forced to help scoot himself inside. Chloe winced at his internal screaming—she didn’t want him to be blindfolded or separated from Adam, either, but she was just as powerless as he was to change that.

After repeating the drag-and-scoot process with Frank, Mark shut the door and stuck a dining chair under the doorknob.

 _‘Wait, what about me?’_ Adam thought in alarm. _‘I should be with Caleb!’_

“And don’t get any ideas!” Damien shouted through the door. “You two sit tight, and I won’t kill anybody. Probably. But I definitely can’t make any promises if I have people trying to play the hero. Got it?”

There was silence from within. Then, Frank said, “We understand. I’ll keep him calm.”

“Attaboy.” Damien took Mark by the arm and led him back to the living room. “Feeling better, Mark?”

“Not really.” Mark rubbed his forehead. “I feel you wanting me to be okay. But Damien, seriously, I don’t want to do anything remotely awful to Sam.”

“Relax! I’m not going to make you do anything too crazy.” Damien grabbed his beer and took another swig before handing it to Mark. “Here, finish this.”

Mark chugged the rest of Damien’s beer. He kept his eyes on the floor, because he was already too ashamed to look at anyone in the room. But whatever he was ashamed of, it was locked away so tightly even Chloe couldn’t access it.

 _‘Thank God for small miracles,’_ Mark thought.

 _‘Oh, sorry,’_ Chloe replied telepathically. _‘I forgot you can hear me.’_

_‘Yeah, I’ve mostly been ignoring it. Not because—’_

_‘No, I get it,’_ Chloe thought. _‘It’s a lot.’_

_‘Yeah.’_

“Well, it’s just us now,” Damien said. “I’d put this one—” He nudged Adam with his foot. “—out of the way if I could, but I don’t wanna risk losing my only leverage. Anyway. Whaddya say we get this party started?”

Mark nodded against his will and then grabbed Sam by the ponytail. She gasped as he lifted her onto her knees.

“Mark?” she asked nervously.

Mark struck her on the face, making her cry out. Adam and Joan were similarly startled. Mark slapped her again, then once more with the back of his hand on her other cheek.

“God, it’s amazing.” Damien stroked Mark’s naked back. “I can feel all these primal urges you’ve been holding back your whole life. And I’m going to make every single one come true.”

 _‘Fuck,’_ Mark thought as he slapped Sam’s face yet again. _‘I hate that I want this. And fuck, fuck, fuck, I definitely watched some Queensnake when I was with Damien. I remember him saying the taser video was hot. That’s probably why he brought the taser. Fuck!!!’_

“Fuck,” Chloe repeated out loud.

“Indeed,” Joan agreed grimly.


	2. Chapter 2

“All right.” Damien tossed a pack of safety pins to Mark. “I know you dig girls with piercings, but I notice Sam here doesn’t have any. Why don’t you fix that?”

Damien was compelling Sam and Mark both to be quiet, but that didn’t stop their frantic thoughts.

 _‘Oh God, please, no, anything but that,’_ Sam thought. _‘Are those sterile? Where is he going to pierce me? What if I get some kind of horrible infection?’_

 _‘Yeah, some sort of sterilization would be nice,’_ Mark thought bitterly. _‘Sorry, Sam. For what it’s worth, I did this to myself freshman year of college.’_

He rolled and pinched her left nipple until it was hard. Sam whimpered but otherwise stayed silent.

_'I don't want this, please don't do this, Mark, please don't.'_

_‘I know, I know,’_ Mark thought apologetically, even though he knew she couldn’t hear it. _‘It’s going to hurt worse than a hollow needle would. I’m so sorry.’_

“I’ll hold her still for you.” Damien stood behind Sam and held onto her ponytail. “Just in case.”

Mark took a deep breath and pushed the large safety pin into Sam’s nipple. It took a minute to get the pin all the way through, and Sam screamed like she was being murdered the whole time.

“Shut up and take it,” Damien ordered.

Sam just shrieked as Mark finally pushed the pin all the way through her breast and closed it. The kitchen closet door thumped twice; Chloe was too far away to get any details, but she knew Caleb was panicking about the spike of pain from Sam, and Frank was trying to calm him down.

“No! Fuck, it hurts!” Sam wailed. “Mark, stop it, please, owww!”

There was a sudden flash of fur as Darwin, who had been hiding somewhere until just then, hissed and launched himself at Damien. He meowed angrily, clawing the hell out of Damien’s face and arms.

“Jesus, goddammit!” Damien threw the cat off him and into the wall. “What the fuck?!”

“Darwin!” Sam struggled to get off the floor while Damien was distracted. “Don’t hurt him!”

Darwin lay unmoving on the floor for a moment, but then he raised his head and meowed in surprise. Damien grabbed him by the scruff, marched him over to the front door, and threw him out.

“No, Darwin!” Sam cried in dismay. “Please, Damien, he’s an indoor cat, he’s never been outside, please—”

Damien slammed the door. “Shut up!”

Sam swallowed a sob and went quiet, at least on the outside. Her thoughts hurt so much Chloe wished she could give Sam a hug.

“Damien, stop,” Joan said sternly. “This is completely unnecessary.”

“I decide what’s necessary!” Damien grabbed Sam’s ponytail again. “Do the other one, Mark.”

 _‘Please don’t,’_ Sam begged. _‘I can’t take it, I’ll pass out, no, Mark, please, no no no…’_

But Mark didn’t have a choice. Chloe was getting good at sensing it now—she could tell Damien’s ability was working on Mark, even when Mark was no longer fighting the artificial urge to pierce Sam. He totally wanted it now, and all he could think about was how hot it had been to hear Sam scream and how badly he wished he could feel her cunt clenching around his cock while he did the second one. But there was a weird… _aura_ to his thoughts now. They were still his thoughts, his wants, but not quite. And even though he felt guilty hearing Chloe think these observations about him, and hearing Sam’s desperate thoughts of, _‘I love you Mark, I know you don’t want to hurt me, please don’t do this, it’s not your fault, please fight him, I know you can do it, I love you, please don’t hurt me again,’_ Mark still really wanted to hurt Sam more.

 _‘I’m not judging,’_ Chloe promised, even though Mark wasn’t in a place to care about being judged right then. She knew he would be later.

Mark forced the pin into Sam’s right nipple, relishing the way she tried to brace herself, the way she shook from pain, the way she shrieked in response to his actions. He deliberately took his time, getting harder from the fear on her face every time he stopped and then pinched and tugged on her nipple before stabbing the safety pin back into her delicate flesh.

Chloe had to turn her thoughts away from his—and Sam’s—before she threw up again. Joan was dissociating slightly, which should have been an escape, but she was thinking about neuroscience. Chloe quickly jumped to her only other option.

Adam’s thoughts were just incoherent terror and anguish. Sam’s screams coupled with his inability to see were sending his panic into overdrive. Chloe wiggled onto her side on the couch and touched him, nearly making him jump off the floor.

“It’s just me,” Chloe whispered. “It’s okay.”

“No, Chloe, it’s really fucking not okay!” Adam said in a high, strained whisper. “Damien hurt you, he hurt Darwin, he’s hurting Sam, he might hurt me or Caleb, Caleb is currently locked in a closet—”

“He’s not going to hurt you,” Joan said from Adam’s other side, her thoughts suddenly focusing on the present. “He’s jealous and he wants revenge, and he has no reason to be angry at you or Caleb for either of those things. And even if he did, he’s not stupid enough to hurt his only leverage. He doesn’t seem interested in Caleb at all, and Caleb is probably best off far away from the rest of us right now.”

“I know that,” Adam said. “It doesn’t make me feel any better, though.”

Sam’s screaming went up an octave, and Chloe glimpsed in both her and Mark’s minds that Mark had finally gotten the pin halfway through her breast and was wiggling it in an attempt to force an exit. The needle finally emerged through the other side of her nipple, and for just a second, Mark’s usual self also burst through. It reminded Chloe of the sun breaking through the clouds on an overcast day.

“Sam,” he said sharply. “Go. Travel.”

“I can’t,” Sam said simply. _‘And even if I could, I wouldn't risk losing you again.’_

“Please, Sam.” Mark grabbed her shoulders. “I don’t care if you take me along. You have to go. Please.”

Sam shook her head violently. Mark balled his fists as the forced desire came back, but no matter how hard he rocked back and forth, he couldn’t resist for long. He closed the safety pin and tapped on it to test it.

“Ow, ow, ow!” Sam yelped. _‘Holy shit, that hurts so much. I think I really might faint.’_

Mark still wanted to hurt her, but he was proud to realize he was quickly going soft. _‘Success,’_ he thought. _‘Sort of.’_

 _‘No, I get it,’_ Chloe thought. _‘I can feel how hard it is to resist Damien. I’m proud of you too.’_

“Aw, what’s the matter?” Damien asked, observing the situation. “Not extreme enough for you?”

“Too extreme,” Mark said.

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Damien said. “This is tame, by your porn standards. What do you wanna do to her? Or maybe… what do you want to see her do? ‘Cause you know, I can make her do _anything_ you want. Just say the word.”

“Nothing,” Mark said through clenched teeth. “I don’t want to see her do anything.”

“Aw, c’mon, I know you better than that.” Damien rubbed Mark’s shoulder. “You know you wanna tell me what you want.”

Mark really, really did. Chloe sighed on his behalf.

“I want to see her with another girl,” Mark admitted.

“Ha, nice!" Damien laughed. "That’s definitely a lot tamer than what I was expecting, but… yeah, I can work with that. Telepath girl, get over here.”

“No.” Mark swallowed. “Not Chloe.”

“Who, then?” Damien asked impatiently. _"Can_ it be Chloe? Because our options aren’t exactly limitless here. Your options are pretty much Chloe or your sister, and—”

Mark’s cock twitched traitorously at Damien’s reference to Joan. Chloe cringed on his behalf. Joan wasn’t even paying attention; she was too busy trying to calm Adam down.

“Huh.” Damien seemed speechless for the first time since getting his power back. “I just… huh. Well, you know what they say about assuming…”

Damien grabbed Joan by the wrists, surprising her, and dragged her over to Mark and Sam. Her flats slipped off her feet in the process, but Damien didn't seem to notice.

“I have to say, Mark, I knew you were into some fucked up shit, but I really was not expecting this.” Damien pulled Joan’s skirt up and tried to take off her hose, ripping huge holes in the nylons in the process.

“Don’t be mad, Joanie,” Mark said, even as his cock continued to grow. “I never wanted it to actually happen.”

“I’m not mad,” Joan promised, even as she realized with a dull dread what was about to happen. “I understand having fantasies you don’t actually want to come to fruition. And I also understand what it’s like to be compelled to do something against your will.” She glared at Damien, who was busy ripping her blouse open.

“Psssh.” Damien brushed her off as easily as he brushed off the buttons flying from her shirt. “He clearly wants it. Look how hard he is. He wants this so bad he's practically fucking dripping.” A devilish grin crept onto the corners of his mouth. “Why don’t you be a good big sister and clean him up?”

Joan blanched. “No, Damien, please—”

Adam whimpered and tried to cover his ears. _‘This is sick, this is awful, I wish I were with Caleb, I want to throw up—’_

“It’s okay, Adam,” Chloe tried to comfort him. “I know this is awful, but it will all be okay.”

“Thanks,” Adam said. _'She’s lying, she knows he’s going to kill us all, I never even told my parents goodbye, let alone that I love them, fuck!’_

“Damien.” Joan’s anger flared just under the surface of her thoughts. “I am _begging_ you to please put Adam somewhere else if you insist on doing this.”

“Nah, I want to be able to keep an eye on him.”

“I have the house wired with cameras,” Sam volunteered. “You could put him on the enclosed porch on the other side of the house.”

“No one asked you,” Damien snapped. “Well, Dr. B.? Aren’t you going to take care of your little brother?”

“No, Damien, don’t—” Joan shut her mouth and turned her head as Damien pushed her forward by the back of her neck.

“Go on.” Damien rubbed her cheek against Mark’s cock, then forced her by the hair until her lips brushed against it. “You know you wanna be a good big sister and lick up all Mark's yummy, _yummy_ pre-come.”

Every muscle in Joan’s body spasmed as she tried not to want to open her mouth. Mark was likewise horrified, but because he already wanted it (however reluctantly), he had a much harder time resisting.

“Please, Joanie.” Mark thrust his cock against Joan’s face. “Joanie, please, it hurts.”

Joan took a shuddering breath. “I… I know.” She didn’t want to want _this,_  but she did want to take care of Mark.

“Joanie, please,” Mark begged. “I need you to suck my cock.”

“I... I just… okay.” Joan took a deep breath. “Okay. I—you know I’d do anything to take care of you, Mark.”

To Chloe’s horror as much as everyone else’s, Joan parted her tense lips and enveloped Mark’s erection in her mouth. Mark was suddenly a teenager again, in his head at least, and Joan was dizzy from the whole situation.

“Yes, Joanie, yes, yes, yes.” He grasped her by the hair and fucked her face so enthusiastically that she choked. “Sorry, Joanie. I’m just so hard...”

“I know,” Joan coughed. “Just be patient. Let me take care of you.”

“Okay, sorry.” Mark dropped his hands to his side. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Joan methodically licked and sucked Mark, using her bound hands to assist her in stroking his shaft and cradling his heavy testicles. Her mind was already going down a psychology rabbit hole.

 _‘Of course, I should have guessed,’_ Joan thought. _‘Of course he’d remember. And it happened at such a formative time in his sexual maturation. It’s a completely natural response to witnessing that kind of trauma. I feel terrible that I never tried to help him. He just seemed so much better adjusted than me… I didn’t want to bring it up if he’d forgotten. I think that was a mistake. Good lord, I’ve made so many mistakes, and almost all of them hurt Mark...’_

She was too busy thinking around whatever incident she was referring to for Chloe to grasp any details. Mark was likewise trying very hard not to think about something. Sam was watching them, bewildered, and Damien was trying unsuccessfully to unhook Joan’s bra. He finally gave up and retrieved a knife from one of the many pockets in his cargo pants and cut the bra off her. Joan pulled away from Mark, glaring over her shoulder.

“Damien, please. Even you aren’t cruel enough to force Mark into something like this. You've proved your point.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Damien said lazily. "And I did promise to give him what he wanted, and what he said he wanted was some girl-on-girl action. So… maybe you and Sam wanna to make out?”

Sam immediately wanted, no, _needed_ to make out with Joan. She licked her lips and glanced at Joan, but then just as quickly looked away. _‘Don’t be weird,’_ she chided herself. _‘Joan probably doesn’t want to make out with you. Or, even if she does, it’s only because of Damien. I bet she definitely didn’t before. Don’t make it awkward.’_

Joan immediately pulled away from Mark, relieved. “I think we can manage a little making out.” Joan gave Sam a warm smile that didn’t match her internal discomfort. “Would you like to follow my lead, Sam?”

“Yes, please.”

Joan used her bound hands to remove her own glasses, then remove Sam’s, and then gently cup Sam’s jaw. She kissed Sam chastely, worrying that Sam might be bothered to taste Mark on Joan’s lips. But Chloe knew the truth—Sam was too busy freaking out about kissing another woman for the first time to even think about that.

Joan sensed some of Sam’s nervousness. Chloe supposed she was pretty good at reading people, which made sense, what with her being a therapist and all.

“You’re a very good kisser, Sam,” Joan encouraged her.

“Really?” Sam asked. _‘She’s probably just lying to make me feel better. Like Mark does, I think.’_

“Yes, you really are,” Joan said sincerely. She was radiating nice therapist words like _rapport_ and _unconditional positive regard._  “I’ve only kissed a couple of other girls, but so far three out of three have been naturals.” With that, she kissed Sam again.

Sam flushed at the compliment but kissed Joan back without hesitation. _‘Wow, I really like kissing Joan. Maybe more than I like kissing Mark, even? Oh God, he can hear me. Sorry, Mark! It’s probably just Damien’s ability.’_

Mark didn’t seem bothered. He was stroking his fist up and down his shaft as he watched Sam and Joan kissing.

“How’s the show?” Damien asked.

“Good.” Mark wrestled with how much he wanted to divulge. “Fine.”

“Aw, come on! It looks like you’re enjoying it. What should they do next? You’re in charge here!”

Mark, Joan, Sam, and Chloe all shared a bitter internal laugh at that.

 _‘Yeah, right,’_ Mark thought. “Uh, I like this,” he said. “I like watching them kiss each other naked. It’s hot.”

 _‘What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,’_ Adam thought. _‘Is Damien going to make all of us rape each other? Jesus Christ, I want to go home. I want my mom and dad or my Aunt Annabelle or anyone.'_

“Oh, yeah?” Damien joined Mark in peering down at Joan and Sam. “What is it about lesbian sex, exactly? I never got the appeal. Just… the more pussy the better?”

“No. I mean, that doesn't hurt. But no.”

“What, then?”

“It feels like I’m spying on them,” Mark confessed.

“Huh. And that does it for you?”

“Yes. And… and I like that girls know how to make each other come faster. I like watching pretty girls—pretty people in general—get turned on, orgasm, whatever. So watching an expert at work, like, someone who knows firsthand what feels good for someone with that, um, anatomy?” Mark shrugged. “Yeah, that's great. That’s pretty much it.”

“Yeah?” Damien asked. “You’ve got quite the reputation yourself, though. Doesn’t Sam come pretty easy for you when you eat her out? Aren’t you like, the pussy whisperer?”

It would have been funny in pretty much other context. Chloe mostly just felt bad for Sam, though. Her face was burning, and she was too embarrassed to raise her head as Mark answered.

“She doesn’t…  really… like it,” he said reluctantly. “She let me do it once, for about two minutes, and then she made me stop. I jerked off in the shower instead. And I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, so I didn’t try again.”

 _‘It made me really insecure,’_ Sam recalled. _‘I didn’t like feeling exposed like that and I was afraid I tasted bad and I didn't know what to do.’_

“Oh, is that how it is?” Damien asked. “Jeez, that’s pretty sad. I wouldn’t wish a sex life like that on my worst enemy.”

 _‘I shouldn’t have taken it so slow,’_ Sam thought. _‘I should have let Mark do more. I should have tried harder to get into it when he was going down on me.’_

 _‘No, Sam.’_ Mark ground his teeth in frustration. _‘I was fine with it! I want you to be comfortable. I want you to be ready before we do anything. That’s the whole fucking point!’_

“I’m gonna fix it. Just tell me what you want, Mark.” Damien coaxed him. “What do you want Sam and _Joanie_ to do to get each other off? You want them to scissor? Fist each other?”

“I want them to 69.” Each word was a battle; Mark didn’t let Damien drag a single one out without a fight. “I want to watch right up close while Sam licks my big sister’s pussy.”

“Well? You heard him.” Damien pulled Sam by her ponytail until she was lying on her back.

“I don’t actually know how to, um…” Sam fell silent just as quickly as she’d spoken up. _‘I don’t know how to 69. I barely even know what to do when Mark is kissing me on the lips, and I was useless when he went down on me.’_

“Just do what I do,” Joan said as Mark helped her straddle Sam’s face. _‘I’ve only done this once, for that one threesome, but I think I remember how it goes.’_

 _‘Oh no, a threesome? With another girl? That’s... really, really hot,’_ Mark thought in despair. _‘Goddammit. I’ve tried so hard not to think about Joanie having sex. I did NOT need to know she’s had a threesome with another girl.’_

Joan rested her head between Sam’s thighs, thinking about how soft and hairless they were compared to most of the people she’d done this with. There was a moment of nervousness, a worry about how her technique might compare to Mark’s, because Mark surely had _much_ more experience at cunnilingus than Joan did, and then she stuck out her tongue and navigated expertly to Sam’s clit.

“Oh!” Sam’s back arched off the floor. _‘Does this feel extra good because it’s a girl, or because it’s Joan, or because Damien is influencing us? Oh, wow, I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on in my life. Am I a lesbian? I mean, of course I think Joan is beautiful. Sexy, even. Who hasn’t daydreamed about kissing a girl? Or, you know… other things… but Joan was my therapist! And I’m in love with her brother. It just never seemed right to think about…. And besides, I’m totally straight. Right? I guess I’ve never really thought about it. But yes, I think I’m straight, so it wouldn’t be right to date a woman just because I occasionally think about her while I masturbate sometimes. Oh God, oh no, I forgot Chloe and Mark can hear all of this. That’s embarrassing.'_

Chloe tried not to laugh; it would have been completely inappropriate, even if Sam’s bisexual awakening was cute to overhear. Mark was too busy appreciating the visuals to think clearly, and Joan was too busy worrying about her technique to pay attention to anything else.

 _‘Right, I should return the favor,’_ Sam thought. _‘I’m just going to…’_ She stuck the tip of her tongue out. _‘Maybe I should just try to copy Joan’s movements? But what if she likes something different?’_

She lapped at Joan’s cunt, earning a deep, muffled moan. Joan rubbed herself against Sam’s face, eager for more stimulation despite herself. Mark’s cock responded accordingly.

“Call me crazy,” Damien said slyly, “but I’m kinda getting the vibe you wanna fuck your sister.”

“No!” Mark lied, alarmed. “Damien, I swear to god, I have never wanted anything less in my life.”

“Nah, I can feel what you want, and I really think you wanna fuck your sister.” Damien hooked two fingers inside Joan’s wet cunt and smirked when Mark’s cock twitched again. “Ha, I knew it! Your cock is a great lie detector, Mark, buddy. But I tell you what—I’ll let you pick. Pussy or ass, girlfriend or sister.” He playfully gestured over the two women and affected a mock regal voice. “All that you see before you is yours, my child. So how about it? Get in there and fuck whichever hole you want the very most.”

Mark stood there breathing hard for a minute. _‘Fight it, fight it fight it,’_ he urged himself. _‘Fuck, okay, if you absolutely have to do this, pick Sam.’_

But Damien’s want was more powerful than Mark’s. After a few minutes of standing there and pretending he didn’t want it, Mark knelt behind Sam’s head, being careful not to put his knee on her hair. He ran his fingers over Joan’s smooth bottom, and the sight made him so excited he could barely speak.

“Don’t hate me, Joanie.” Mark stuck his fingers inside her cunt and curled them rhythmically against her G-spot, just like Damien had done. “Please don’t hate me for this.”

Joan raised her head. “Never in a million years,” she assured him, even as she thought about how awful it was to be violated by her little brother’s fingers. “I understand.”

“I didn’t want this, I swear,” Mark insisted weakly. “Not really.”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” Joan soothed him. “Focus on getting through this. We’re probably long overdue for some real therapy, anyway.”

Mark gave a short, mirthless laugh. “Truer words were never spoken. Okay, I’m going to try really hard to be gentle.”

“It’s fine, Mark,” Joan said. “Worry about yourself. I’ll be fine. Just get it over with.”

Mark brushed the tip of his cock against her folds, hesitating. He was unbearably turned on by how thoroughly wet she was, even though he knew most of that was courtesy of Sam’s mouth. At Damien’s unspoken suggestion, Sam’s eager tongue stretched up to lick the underside of Mark’s cock.

“Oh, fuck,” Mark groaned. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. Fuck, I’m so sorry, Joanie.”

With that, the head of his cock slid inside Joan. Joan felt herself tearing slightly from his girth, and her thoughts erupted with pain and despair, strong enough to make Mark pause.

“Am I hurting you?” Mark asked.

“No,” Joan lied. “My body was just adjusting.”

“You know I can read your mind when Chloe’s in the room.”

“Ah, yes.” Joan grimaced. “Telepathy: making it impossible for women to fake it since… you know, I’m not actually sure when the first recorded telepath was alive. You can keep going, though.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. It’s fine. Anything to get this over with as fast as possible.”

“If you say so.”

Joan and Sam both pondered how early atypicals had evolved from typical humans, Joan in her scientific research thought process and Sam in pictures of the openly atypical tribes she had seen while traveling. Mark slid deeper into Joan until she had taken every inch, which was not an easy task given his size. He began to hump against her, causing Sam’s thoughts to drift back to how much she was enjoying licking Joan.

Joan, on the other hand, had immediately frozen up. Not only was she not licking Sam anymore, but she wasn’t thinking about anything. It was unnerving. It wasn’t like the meditation Joan did when she was trying to keep Chloe from eavesdropping on her thoughts. This was blank, like she was in a deep trance, but there was an undercurrent—no, a whirlpool, Chloe thought—swirling deep in Joan’s murky subconscious.

“Joanie?” Mark touched the back of her neck, just like Chloe had touched Frank’s earlier in the night.

Joan startled so violently she might have pulled a muscle in her neck. “What?”

“Sorry,” Mark said. “You were totally zoned out. I haven’t seen you do that since…”

 _‘Since we were teenagers,’_ Joan finished silently for him. “I’m okay.”

“Okay… good.” Mark tried to pretend he wasn’t worried. _‘Jesus, as if we weren’t already fucked up enough. Is this going to break her brain? I don’t want to break her brain.’_ “Uh, I can try a different position?”

“No, it’s fine,” Joan said. _‘I’m going to have issues no matter which position we’re in. I just want to get this over with.'_

“Okay,” Mark repeated. “I love you, Joanie.”

“I love you too.”

Mark gripped Joan’s hips and increased his pace. Joan tensed, and Chloe saw a flash of childhood memories from both siblings.

Joan’s memory was rushing back like grey floodwaters in the form of some sort of traumatic flashback. The memory was tied to something she’d spent a lot of time in therapy to get over, but she still wasn’t over it—or at least, she didn’t feel as “over it” as she thought she should be? Chloe furrowed her brow and tried to listen past the throbbing in her ears. The memory was something that had made Joan want to become a therapist, but it was something she felt she could never handle with a patient. Chloe rubbed her forehead with her bound hands. There were no images or hints about the content of the flashback, just a big, dark void in Joan’s teenaged memories, like a gangrenous wound, or, no, like a black hole. Chloe realized suddenly that it must be a big chunk of memories that Joan had deliberately repressed.

Mark, on the other hand, was reliving some sort of guilty fantasy about the same general topic. More specifically, he was deeply immersed in a fantasy about burying his face in the glistening black hair between his sister’s legs. It was almost a memory, but more like the memory of a major fantasy he’d had for years, not something that had ever actually happened. _‘Fuck me, how can I still be getting off on this? Especially when Joanie is still so traumatized from it? God, I’m seriously fucked up.’_ Mark stopped his train of thought suddenly. _‘Nope, not with Chloe listening. I don’t want to think about it. La la la. Don’t think about it don’t think about it don’t think about—’_

With a jolt that startled Chloe, the porno-like background video behind Mark’s thoughts shifted to something less fuzzy, something with the sharp edges of a real memory. The interior of a house? She knew somehow that it was his childhood home.

 _‘Nope, no, nuh-uh. Not thinking about this,’_ Mark thought stubbornly, even as his subconscious ignored him. _‘Think about the election. Think about that really hot yoga teacher I met that time I visited Joanie's apartment. Think about Mad Men. Nope, nope, stop it, brain.’_

Chloe followed Mark down the hallway, which was lined with pictures of a happy-looking couple and their two kids: A family camping trip in the mountains, with everyone wearing smiles and khaki shorts and baseball caps and fanny packs. Mark and Joan in orange life jackets, one arm around each other, the other holding up a pair of matching fish. Joan in an exceedingly ‘90s blazer, holding a blue science fair ribbon in front of a tri-fold display. Mark in a bowtie, holding a ribbon-winning photograph of a flower in its black frame. A newborn (Mark, presumably) in a blue hospital blanket on the lap of a tiny Joan in a pink “I’m a Big Sister” T-shirt, who in turn was on the lap of a headless man in a blue polo shirt. Chloe followed young Mark down the hallway.

_Mark was home from his friend’s house early, and he needed his colored pencils back. Joanie had NO RIGHT to take them in her room like that when he’d bought them with his own birthday money. He was just going to take them back from her room and then leave. He wasn’t going to mess with her stuff, just take back what was his._

_But then he opened the door to her room, and to his shock, Joanie was not at the library like she’d told their mother she’d be. She was lying on her duvet, totally naked and clutching a handful of silver constellations and navy sky in each fist. She was panting and wiggling and generally behaving like she was getting the massage to end all massages. Mark had never seen her in such a state of pure, desperate bliss._

_Mark stood there, transfixed by his naked sister while his cock grew the biggest it had ever been in his young life. He felt empathically feverish from Joanie’s pink cheeks and the sweat on her chest and hairline. Her nipples were hard, standing like little pebbles on her small breasts. They made his mouth water, and he suddenly needed to lick his chapped lips. But oh man, the most exciting part by far was that little trail of wispy dark hair leading from her belly button to the shiny, wet black hair between her legs. He hadn’t even realized girls had hair down there. He wanted to rub his hand over the little patch and see if it was as soft as it looked. He pressed his hand against the straining crotch of his jeans, barely holding himself back. And the second Mark saw that long tongue teasing his sister’s cunt, the second he realized it was possible to French kiss a girl’s privates and make her go completely crazy like that, young Mark lost control. His unwitting grunt made Joan’s eyes fly open. Mark stared guiltily into his sister’s frightened eyes while he helplessly spurted a hot, sticky mess into his boxer briefs._

It didn’t matter that Mark’s cock was currently buried in Joan’s cunt; he still wished it had been his head down there, instead of the salt-and-pepper one nuzzling Joanie’s inner thighs. He still wished it had been his fingers her pussy stretched around so beautifully, so impossibly. He still got painfully hard remembering the way she’d moaned and rocked her hips, like she was experiencing the best thing in the world, and he still wished it was his name she was moaning, instead of—

 _‘Yep!’_ Mark thought more loudly in the present, trying to tune out the memory. _‘Good sleuthing, Chloe. Now you know I accidentally walked in on my sister getting eaten out when I was just figuring out masturbation, and it gave me a weird, life-long fetish for voyeurism and oral sex. Also, some weird fantasies about my sister, although I never wanted them to actually happen in real life. But that’s totally common, according to everything I’ve read, including a handful of other minds. Nothing to see here! Let’s move on.’_

Joan was weeping quietly, rubbing her streaming nose against the ropes on her wrists as she remembered the scene a little differently. She remembered pleading, _“No, stop, don’t, he’s really good at keeping secrets! He won’t tell, will you, Mark?”_ as Mark was shoved into the wall for “spying.” She remembered the cold, scared ache in her gut in the hot shower afterward. She remembered shutting Mark out until he stopped asking questions, and she remembered pretending like nothing had happened for years, even as a string of terrible boyfriends came and went.

 _‘I need to think about something else. Science,’_ she thought. _‘Yes, I’ll think about science. But not the science fair. Not all the times he said he’d help me and then forgot to. Neuroscience. How does the cranial nerve mnemonic go? On Old Olympus’ Towering Top, A Friendly Viking Grew Vines And Hops. I don’t remember the dirty version.’_

“Come on, knock it off, Dr. B.,” Damien said. “You don’t have anything to cry about.”

Damien’s influence made Joan feel a shameful arousal, and a sensory flashback rose to the surface of her subconscious unbidden: the same man kissing Joan’s neck from behind while she did Geometry homework at the kitchen table. Chloe watched Joan’s shoulders spasm in revulsion, even though no one was actually touching her in the present. Joan wiped her wet eyes against the ropes, finding relief in the scratchiness against her delicate skin.

_‘The facial nerve releases tears. Is it nerve six or seven? Olfactory, Optic, Occulomotor, Trochlear, Trigeminal, Abducens, Facial—it’s seven—Vestibulocochlear, Glossopharyngeal, Vagus, Accessory, Hypoglossal. Nerve seven. Both a sensory and a motor nerve. I think. It’s been so long since undergrad neuroanatomy. It is a sensory nerve too, right? Some Say Marry Money, But My Brother—yes, it’s both—Says Big Brains Matter Most. Ha. Looks like Mark’s getting both in Sam. They’re lucky to have each other. All I ever wanted was for him to be the happy, well-adjusted one.’_

Chloe was still perplexed by what she’d seen. Joan had dated an older man when she was a teenager? Chloe had picked up that the Bryant parents had been a little neglectful, but she’d never realized Joan had gotten away with dating someone criminally older than her. Huh. Chloe wondered if her own mom had been giving Joan pointers on keeping things secret from Chloe.

 _‘Just leave it, okay?’_ Mark’s thoughts were extra moody suddenly. _‘She’s trying really hard to avoid thinking about it, and you’re the main reason. She deserves some privacy, even from you.’_

 _‘You’re right,’_ Chloe apologized. _‘I’m sorry.’_

 _‘Am I doing something wrong?’_ Sam wondered. _‘Joan is being really still, and she’s stopped licking me… wait, is she crying? Ugh, what’s wrong with me? Of course she’s upset! Damien is forcing her and Mark to rape each other. And me too, I guess. That’s weird. I don’t feel like I’m being raped. I feel like I want this. But now that I’m thinking about how I want it, I do feel kind of violated. Great. Why did I have to open Pandora’s box? I don’t know what to do now, but I want to keep licking Joan, so I’m just going to keep doing that until she—or someone—tells me to stop.’_

Joan was descending too deeply into distress to distract herself anymore, much less tell Sam to stop. She’d switched what felt like the therapy version of first aid. _‘It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t my fault. I was just a child.’_

“Hey, Joanie.” Mark rubbed Joan’s back as he tried to shorten his thrusts for her sake. “Are there any good Ethiopian restaurants in the city? I haven’t found any yet.”

 _‘It wasn’t my fault.’_ Joan didn’t even hear him. _‘I was a child.’_

“Joanie?”

 _‘It wasn’t my fault; I was a child,’_ Joan was thinking it over and over again, a mantra she didn’t quite believe in but desperately wanted to. _‘It wasn’t my fault; I was a child.’_

Joan’s subconscious remembered her whispering these words over and over again in a bunch of different locations—at least a dozen shaky, faltering practice times in her therapist’s office, then unconvincingly in her bathtub, in her office at the AM, in her car in her parents’ driveway, in her private practice between sips of scotch. _‘It wasn’t my fault; I was a child.’_

Mark shook Joan’s shoulder, glancing at Chloe to see if she was paying attention. “Come on, Joanie. Stay with me. I’m right here. Remember that time you bailed me out in college? Man, that was embarrassing. Come on, stay with me.”

Mark stroked his finger down Joan’s spine. Her body responded positively to Mark’s touch, clenching more tightly around him, but neither of them was in the mental place to notice it properly.

_Past-Joan sat stiffly on the white, canvas couch. She always dreaded coming to this office, even though she always left feeling better. It was late in the afternoon, based on the sunlight coming in through the window. Past-Joan was fidgeting with her glossy new AM badge, pulling the elastic cord all the way taut and then feeding it back in slowly to keep it from snapping back in. She didn’t normally fidget like this._

_“It feels like something’s on your mind,” her therapist said. “Do you want to talk about it?”_

In the present, Joan made a noise that was hard to distinguish (even via telepathy) whether it was from pleasure or pain. If Chloe hadn’t had access to Mark’s brain, and if she hadn’t known how hard and fast Joan was unconsciously squeezing his cock, she would have guessed it was from pain. Mark reached under Joan and flicked her nipples lightly until they hardened. When she didn’t respond, he groped both of her breasts from behind.

“Come on, Joanie.” Mark kissed her shoulder. “You don’t get to go off and leave me again. Talk to me.”

_“I think I’ve just come to terms with the fact that I’m not a very good person in general,” Past-Joan told her therapist. “I’ve decided that perhaps I’m not improving psychologically because I need to accept responsibility for my actions, rather than blaming someone else for my dysfunction.”_

_“Accepting responsibility for our actions is generally the healthiest option, but I don’t know that it makes the most sense in this situation,” her therapist said carefully. “I can absolutely see how it might feel more empowering to frame it as something you had control over. But Joan, put yourself in my shoes. What would you tell a client who told you what you’re telling me?”_

_“I would say it wasn’t her fault; she was just a child,” Past-Joan recited dully. When the therapist stayed silent, expectant, Joan struggled to form a more genuine response. “I suppose I would say… I would say that I’m so sorry a trusted adult did that to her.”_

_“Would you support her taking responsibility for it?”_

_“Absolutely not.”_

_“But you would be thinking she should do that?”_

_“No. Of course not.” There was another pause. “To be completely honest, I would be thinking she probably wasn’t as mature as I was, so she shouldn’t be held culpable. But I was an exceptionally mature teenager. I should have known better.”_

_“Ah.” The counselor smiled. “Joan, you were a volunteer instructor at that girls’ science camp a few months ago, weren’t you? Remind me, what grade levels did you teach?”_

_“Rising eighth and ninth grade.”_

_“And you had gifted students.”_

_“Yes.” Joan smiled. “I’m lucky the AM lets us take time off annually for volunteer commitments.”_

_“That is nice. But what I’m wondering, Joan… surely some of those girls were more mature than you were at their age, right?”_

_It was Past-Joan’s turn to say, “Ah.”_

_The therapist returned Joan’s smile. “It sounds like you know where I’m going with this.”_

_“Yes, I do.” Joan shifted uncomfortably on the couch. “And… no. There’s not a teenager in the world I would hold responsible in that situation.”_

_“Except teenager Joan.”_

_“Yes. I knew I was doing, and I knew it was wrong, and I did it anyway.”_

In the present, Sam licked furiously at Joan’s clit while Mark massaged Joan’s breasts. He was still fucking her, but he wasn’t making much progress on finishing. Chloe sensed his horror, and she shared it, even if she didn’t fully understand the context of Joan’s memories.

_“I want you try imagining your teenager self is your client. Is that okay?”_

_“I suppose.”_

_“Good. Now, remember, this started when your client was a little younger your science camp students. So what would you say to her? Would you say, ‘You knew what you were doing, you knew it was wrong, and you did it anyway’?”_

_“No. I would say, um.” Past-Joan’s voice caught, and she paused. “I think I would say that, uh, her feelings are valid, but sometimes feelings lie? Memories are often wrong, especially in abuse survivors. She probably remembers it wrong.”_

_“That’s definitely possible. But you know, it’s possible your client does remember correctly,” the therapist said. “It's possible she did ask for and enjoy the abuse after it started. The important thing is that there’s literally nothing she could have done that would make her responsible for what happened to her.”_

_“Well, I think she would argue that even if that’s the case, it’s foolish to play the victim when she literally asked for the so-called abuse most of the time,” Past-Joan said. “And as a professional, I would be stumped on how to respond. I would have to say something useless, like ‘Why do you say that?’ or ‘It sounds like you feel responsible for what happened.’”_

_“Don’t underestimate the power of the basics!” The therapist smiled. “But here’s a metaphor I like, which you’re welcome to use with your client—this one or a future, non-hypothetical one.  Sometimes when we’re really thirsty, even the worst sources of water sound delicious. That’s why people in countries without clean water drink from filthy, polluted puddles. Or why Bear Grylls is always drinking his own urine!”_

_Past-Joan laughed at that, despite all her tension._

_“Do you think,” continued her therapist, “that if you were counseling a child living without clean water, you might find her eagerness to drink that polluted puddle water completely logical?”_

_“It’s… possible.” Past-Joan wiped her hands on the couch. “But that’s really not remotely the same thing.”_

_“Isn’t it? Humans need love as desperately as they need food and water. Children especially. You’ve taken a lifespan development course, right? Or a child psychopathology course?”_

_Past-Joan nodded. “Both.”_

_“Then I won’t rehash the literature, because you already know what the empirical evidence says. Or your brain knows it, at least.” The therapist leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “But I want your heart to know, too. So I’m going to specifically tell your skeptical heart that it’s my professional, unbiased opinion—as a fellow skeptic, scientist, ABPP-certified clinical psychologist, take your pick— that it was unquestionably wrong for your parents to neglect you and Mark, just like it would be unquestionably wrong for them to refuse you two clean water. Can we agree on that?”_

_“Yes.”_

Present-Joan gasped as a sudden orgasm shuddered through her, courtesy of Sam’s insistent tongue. Mark tried to focus on it, but he was as distracted by the flashback as Chloe was. There was no pleasurable glow from Joan’s orgasm. Just rawness and overstimulation, both physically and emotionally.

_”And the sexual abuse you experienced was also unquestionably wrong, and you know that. That’s why you’re here. But Joan, I want you to hear me when I say that it was never remotely wrong for you, a child, to beg for polluted water when you were dying of thirst. You were tough and clever enough to find the only water source you could in a desert. And it sounds like you filtered that contaminated puddle water into a clean, safe well for Mark.”_

Past-Joan began to cry into a tissue; Present-Joan began to sob into Sam’s thigh so hard she could barely draw a breath. The banging on the closet door resumed, more frantic than before.

“Dr. Bright!” Caleb’s voice was distraught, even as faint as it was. “Stop, what are you doing to her?! Dr. Bright!”

“Hey, shut him up!” Damien shouted.

 _“I tried!_ _I really, really tried,” Past-Joan said. “Mark is everything to me. And I never want anything to contaminate the water between us.”_

_“That’s good. That sounds very healthy.”_

_“That’s why I can never, ever talk to him about this. He’s the only well-adjusted person in our family. He can’t possibly remember what he saw. And I don’t want to risk contaminating him by reminding him. Not when he’s so happy, aside from the family situation.”_

The banging on the door stopped. Chloe sensed Frank working as hard as he could to calm Caleb down.

_“You have to do what you think is best. But given what he’s currently going through with your parents, it’s possible you two might grow even closer if you cleared the air about what happened when you were children. Whether Mark remembers it or not, I can’t imagine witnessing his father rape his big sister had a positive impact on his development.”_

“Oh!” Chloe said out loud. “Oh, holy crap, wow. I get it now.”

Mark froze, and Joan finally emerged from her flashback.

 _‘Please don’t tell anyone,’_ they both thought, almost in unison.

 _‘Don’t worry,’_ Chloe thought, then realized only Mark could hear her. “Don’t worry,” she said aloud.

 _‘Huh?’_ Sam thought.

 _‘I need you to finish, Mark.’_ Joan rested her cheek on Sam’s lower belly, soaking it with tears. _‘I’m in crisis, and I need you to finish as soon as humanly possible.’_

“I’m trying, I promise,” he said.

“Huh?” Damien asked.

“I’m trying to finish,” Mark said. “It’s just hard—or, I guess, _not_ hard, to be more accurate—when she’s so upset.”

“Oh, I can fix that—”

“No, Damien,” Mark said sharply. “Don’t you dare force her to be calm. She’s allowed to be upset. You don’t know anything about what she’s been through, and you don’t have the first clue about how badly this is fucking with her head.”

“I know plenty.” Damien sulked. “I’m only trying to help.”

Mark, who was thoroughly limp by now, slid out of Joan. He sat down next to her, pulled her onto his lap, and hugged her.

 _‘I hope this is okay,’_ Mark thought. _‘Maybe she doesn’t want to be touched, especially by me—’_

Joan hadn’t cried this hard in years. Mark rubbed her back.

 _‘Contaminated,’_ Joan thought in despair. _‘It’s contaminated too now, and we can never decontaminate it.’_

“Hey, if I’m not allowed to use catastrophic thinking, neither are you,” Mark teased her anxiously. “We’re smart. Ish. About some things. We’ll find a Brita pitcher.”

Joan just cried harder. _‘Mark is such a funny, charming person. He doesn’t deserve this.’_

 _‘I’ve never heard Dr. Bright even get slightly emotional before,’_ Adam thought. _‘God, this is the worst.’_

Sam sat up, eyeing Joan with concern. “Joan?” Sam turned her eyes to Mark. “What’s going on? Is she okay?”

 _‘Very, very not-okay,’_ Joan thought. _‘Everything is ruined and we won’t be able to fix it. I’ve failed Mark every possible way a sister could. I wish I weren’t alive right now.’_

“Hey!” Mark shook her. “Quit that. Goddammit, Damien. Look what you did! Are you happy? I think you really fucked her up.”

“What?! Me?!” Damien looked more guilty and uncomfortable than Chloe had ever seen him. “I gave you what you wanted! If anyone fucked her up, it’s you. I never would have thought to make you fuck her if you hadn’t wanted it so badly.”

 _‘I can’t believe he wanted that.’_ Joan cried into her bound hands. _‘He was so… functional. I really thought he’d forgotten. I thought he was okay. I thought I was the only one carrying it. Good Lord, he’s remembered it this whole time, had these thoughts and fantasies this whole time, and I wasn’t there for him. And now… it’s all polluted between us now, and the only thing that kept me going was Mark being okay…”_

 _‘Fuck, I don’t know what to do,’_ Mark thought desperately. _‘What am I supposed to do? How do I fix this?’_

 _‘I’m not sure there’s anything you can do,’_ Chloe replied. _‘Not right now, anyway.’_

“Joan? What’s wrong?” Sam asked. “Mark? Did Damien do something to her? Besides the obvious, I mean?”

“Okay, enough!” Damien scowled. “Let’s all stop playing the ‘blame Damien’ game, okay? It’s just sex. You’re not going to die. Jesus.”

Joan’s crying quieted down as the urge to be quiet slowly dominated her. It wasn’t just the urge to be quiet, though, Chloe realized. It was also the desire to be okay.

 _‘I guess Damien didn’t mean for it to go that far,’_ Chloe mused.

 _‘Great. That does us a whole lot of good,’_ Mark fumed. _‘What a dick. What a total, oblivious, unrepentant asshat—’_

“I thought I was over it.” Joan tried to wipe her nose on the ropes again.

This time, Mark grabbed his shirt off the floor. “Yeah, me too.” He wiped her face, paying special attention to her raw nose. “Guess the Bryant family tradition of repressing stuff until it goes away is less than effective, huh?”

Joan didn’t find that funny. “You shouldn’t have had anything to repress. If I’d known—”

“You’re not the only one allowed to protect your sibling.” Mark smoothed down the hair that was sticking out at odd angles on her head. _‘Let’s just not focus on the part where I had to fuck you until you had a full-blown flashback.’_

“Are we… are you guys good?” Damien asked apprehensively. “Can we move on?”

“Oh, yeah, totally! I just raped my sister into a nervous breakdown, but she’s all better now, 30 seconds later!” Mark glared at Damien. His thoughts were teeming with hatred. “Why are you like this?!” He ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation. “What kind of psychopath does this to people?”

“Hey!” Damien jumped off the chair. “What kind of psychopath wants to fuck his own goddamn sister, huh?! I told you to pick who you wanted to fuck, and you’re the one who fucking picked your sister. But I guess now we’ve both crossed a line, huh? Yeah.” He forced himself to relax. “Now I’m not the only one who’s, you know… _raped_ someone. Am I?”

It was Joan’s turn to radiate rage. _‘He’s trying to make Mark feel complicit in his crimes. No, FUCK that. He doesn’t get to do that. He raped us, not Mark.’_

Joan couldn’t resist Damien enough to say it. But Chloe could.

“You’re the only rapist here Damien,” Chloe spoke up. “You’ve literally raped five people today, including Mark.”

Damien’s control wavered just a little as he rounded on her. “No one asked you! When will you learn not to fucking question me?!”

“Leave her alone!” Sam said. “She’s right. You’re the only rapist here.”

“Mark is innocent,” Joan agreed. “And he’s _nothing_ like you.”

“Shut up!” Damien growled. “All of you, just… shut up! Shut up!”

They all fell silent, even Chloe. Damien paced the living room.

“All right,” he said finally. “Mark, drag the telepath onto the floor.”

“Why?” Chloe asked in alarm as Mark pulled her off the sofa.

“Because you _still_ haven’t learned your fucking lesson,” Damien said. “And Mark still doesn’t get what it’s like to be me.”

“And my being on the floor will help that… how, exactly?”

“You still need to pee, right?”

Chloe had a bad feeling about this. “Yes…”

Damien gave her a sadistic smirk. “Trust me. It’ll help.”


	3. Chapter 3

Chloe couldn’t tell whether she or Mark was more full of dread, especially because their thoughts kept feeding off each other to make it worse and worse.

_‘Fucking hell, Damien. He’s really going to make us do this?’_

_‘That surprises you? He just made you do this with Joan.’_

_‘Yeah, thanks for the reminder, Chloe.’_ Mark joined Chloe on the floor, absently stroking her through her underwear. _‘It just seems random.’_

_‘Do you have to do that?’_

_‘Do what?’_ Mark looked down at his hand in surprise. _‘Yeah, I think that’s Damien.’_

_‘Ugh. Of course it is. I’m not much for hate, but I really really hate that guy. I don’t want anything terrible to happen to him, but—’_

_‘Oh, I do!’_ Mark thought darkly. _‘I can think of a lot of terrible things I want to happen to him.’_

“Let’s get to it," Damien said. "Mark, do you think Chloe is hot? Tell the truth.”

“She’s cute,” Mark said. “I wouldn’t say no if she wanted a threesome. But she’s ace. And she’s best friends with Sam, who is my absolute dream girl, so I wouldn’t want to make things weird between them.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Damien muttered. “You and your fucking dream girl. Well, before you fuck your precious Sam, I think you should try Chloe as an appetizer.”

“I really don’t want to, Damien.”

“Oh, you say that now,” Damien said, “but I know what gets you going. Chloe, how badly do you need to pee?”

Chloe sighed. “Pretty badly.”

Mark's cock rose at that, much to his chagrin.

“And do you think I’m gonna let you use the toilet after how bitchy you’ve been tonight?”

“Probably not.”

“Good guess. See, Mark is all about watersports, at least based on his porn-viewing habits. So I’m betting that if you pee on him, it’ll get him hard enough to do the rest of what I have in mind.”

Chloe tried not to grimace. That sounded incredibly humiliating, and she was still recovering from the indignities Damien had put her through so far.

“Do I have to fuck her?” Mark asked. “Can't she just sit on my lap and piss?”

“Aw, where’s the fun in that?” Damien pouted. “No, go ahead and fuck her. You deserve it. Besides, you still think you’re better than me, and we can’t have that. I can do this all day! You can fuck the teenagers next if you want. I don’t care.”

 _‘Not an option,’_ Mark thought grimly. _‘Sorry, Chloe, but—’_

_‘No, God, same. I don’t want anything to happen to Caleb or Adam. And I’ve already been through this twice today. By all means, do whatever he tells you to do to me.’_

“What’s the ideal setup for this?” Damien asked. “Like, if you could make a girl piss on you any way you wanted, what would it be?”

“Really intense full bladder sex,” Mark said shortly. “She orgasms so hard she loses control and pisses all over me.”

“Yeah, then you’ll like fucking Chloe,” Damien assured Mark. “Her clit has a hair trigger. Heh, no pun intended. I made her orgasm at least three times, easy. Plus, she’s not even under my power, so you’ll know it’s real. Go ahead, Mark. What are you waiting for? Permission? Just fuck her already.”

 _‘Just do it,’_ Chloe thought.

 _‘I’ll try to be gentle,’_ Mark thought. _‘I’m really sorry I don’t have a condom.’_

 _‘It’s okay.’_ Chloe involuntarily remembered spilling Damien’s and Frank’s jism on Dr. Bright’s carpet, which led to thinking about the horror of having to take their bare cocks in the first place, not to mention the humiliation of Damien taking pictures of her fellating his gun or of her having to pull her underwear back on without cleaning up first.

 _‘Jesus fuck, I’m so sorry.’_ Mark took Chloe’s bound hands in his. _‘I promise I didn’t actually want this. I didn’t want any of this. And Joan—’_ He stopped thinking; it hurt too much to continue that train of thought.

 _‘I know,’_ Chloe assured him. _‘People have stray thoughts all the time they don’t actually want to see happen. I’ve heard all kinds of crazy stuff that people think about but would never do. I don’t blame you. I blame Damien.’_

 _‘I’ll drink to that.’_ Mark massaged the outside of her cunt with his cock. _‘Okay, you’re pretty wet—sorry, I know it’s from what he already did to you. I’m going to go for it and try to finish fast. Three, two, one—’_

He pushed inside Chloe with a pop, and it _felt_ so loud she accidentally said, “Ow…”

“Sorry?” Mark wrinkled his forehead.

“It’s fine; it didn’t actually hurt,” Chloe said.

_‘Um…. Can I move, or will it hurt you?’_

_‘No, yeah, you can totally move, sorry. I don’t know why I said ‘Ow.’ You’re big, but I think I’m pretty warmed up already. I just really have to pee.’_

Mark grimaced. _‘That should not turn me on as much as it does. Sorry.’_

_‘It’s okay. It’s tame by comparison to some people’s fetishes. Some people are into some really sick shit.’_

Mark thought about his more extreme porn-viewing habits. _‘That doesn’t actually make me feel better.’_

_‘Sorry! Just… focus on how badly I have to pee, if that’s what does it for you. Can you pick that up?’_

Mark nodded and began to fuck her gently. Chloe closed her eyes.

 _‘I need to pee, I need to pee, I really really need to pee.’_ Chloe clenched her whole body, trying to keep from losing control as Mark jostled her strained bladder.

 _‘Fuck, this is hot.’_ Mark blew out a deep breath. _‘Sorry, I just meant… the clenching feels really good, and you thinking about how badly you have to pee is driving me insane. I wish I wasn’t turned on by this.”_

_‘Stop beating yourself up! I can read your mind, and I know you don’t want to be doing this. Just enjoy it as much as you need to so you can get it over with.’_

_‘Yeah, good plan.’_

Their thoughts went quiet as Mark tried to concentrate on what he was doing, and Chloe tried to concentrate on anything else. Joan was still upset but trying to comfort Adam, while Sam was thinking about how utterly not jealous she was.

“Feeling better, Dr. B.?” Damien asked.

“No,” Joan said, then sighed. “But I want to.”

“Well, that’s the first step, right?”

“I suppose.”

“Oh, come on! It’s weird seeing you like this,” Damien whined. “What do you want?”

“I want you to let us go.”

“All in good time. And in the meantime?”

“I… I’d really like my clothes fixed. Or something from my suitcase.”

“Which suitcase is yours?”

“The grey one.”

“Ah, of course. Classy but monochrome. I should have guessed.” Damien retrieved a new blouse for Joan and helped her dress.

Mark suddenly swooped down and bit gently at Chloe’s neck. She hadn’t realized she was subconsciously wanting it, and it startled a moan out of her.

“Mark!”

He nipped at her neck again, gyrating his hips as he fucked her.

 _‘Oh, I like that,’_ Chloe thought without meaning to. _‘Ohh, I really have to pee, but that feels so good.’_

Mark stopped biting her neck. _‘What does?’_

_‘That thing you’re doing with your hips. Adjusting your angle, or circling them, or whatever it is. You have... very nice rhythm?’_

_‘Well… thank you.’_

_‘God, there’s so much pressure inside me. I feel like I’m going to lose control any second.’_

_‘Oh fuck, Chloe. Keep going, just like that.'_

_‘Like what?’_

_‘Well, it wouldn’t hurt if you thought about how you want to come so hard around my big cock…’_

Chloe laughed inside her head. _‘Wow, okay. No offense, Mark, but that’s really… cheesy? Porny?’_

_‘Doesn’t mean it’s not a turn-on.’_

Chloe bit her lip. _‘All right. I will say—or think, I guess—that you really are pretty big, and what you’re doing feels good enough I could theoretically “come hard around it.”’_

_‘Have you ever done this before? Sex with a full bladder?’_

_‘I generally make it a point not to have sex if I can avoid it.’_

_‘Oh. Right.’_

_‘It does feel kind of good though. Honest. In a weird, uncomfortable way.’_

Joan was staring at them while eyeing the kitchen out of her periphery. _‘Maybe I can break free long enough to stab Damien with the scissors.’_

“What else, Dr. B.?” Damien asked. “I could… get you some water, or something.”

“Could I please have my glasses back?” Joan asked.

Damien retrieved her glasses from the floor and placed them gingerly on her face. “Better?”

“Thank you,” Joan said, clearing her dry throat. “And... yes. Could I have that glass of water, please?”

“Here.” Damien handed her the bottle of scotch. "Drink that for now."

Joan didn’t really want scotch; she wanted to replace the tears she’d lost with tap water. But she drank deeply from the bottle anyway, thinking vaguely about how this would dehydrate her more but also probably be best for calming her down enough to come up with a plan to thwart Damien.

 _‘Think about something else,”_ Adam was thinking. _‘I’m on a picnic with Caleb. We’re eating grapes and cheese, and I’m reading poetry to him. I start choking on a grape, and he pats me on the back until I stop choking. Then we cuddle and watch the dogs, because it’s a picnic at a dog park. And then Tom Hardy comes over with his dog and our dogs play together, and Tom Hardy tells Caleb he’s a lucky man and then gives us a thousand dollars to go on a date, just because we’re such a cute couple.’_

Chloe grinned at Adam’s cuteness, even as Mark increased his pace.

 _‘I’m not jealous,’_ Sam thought. _‘I’m totally not jealous! I’m not—okay, I’m a little jealous. God, what is wrong with me? They don’t even want to be doing this! I am the worst person in the entire world. I just… is it too much to ask that Damien not make my boyfriend fuck his sister and my best friend in front of me? Especially before I’ve had a chance to fuck him first? Wait, is Mark even my boyfriend? Jesus, Sam, this is so not the time!’_

Mark and Chloe shared a secret smile, both echoing their love for Sam inside their heads.

 _‘God, I love her,’_ Mark thought, even as he fucked Chloe a little harder. _‘I wish I was fucking her instead. Sorry, Chloe.’_

_‘No, it’s okay. I wish you were fucking her instead too. It would still suck, but I think everyone would be a lot happier with that arrangement.’_

Mark kneaded Chloe’s breasts, sucking lightly on her sore nipples. He was clearly incredibly skilled at sex— _’Ha, thanks, Chloe’_ —and his movements were causing a definite reaction in Chloe’s body.

 _‘That feels good for you, right?’_ Mark flicked her nipple with his tongue.

_‘Ugh. Yes. Despite how my brain is objecting, it does feel really good.’_

She could hear Mark’s excitement like an impression that was so strong it was almost a feeling, which triggered a feedback loop with her reluctant mind. It was not unlike the loop she’d had with Frank while he'd been inside her.

 _‘I want to make you come,’_ Mark thought. _‘How can I do that?’_

Chloe tried not to think about how good it would feel if he kissed her on the lips, but it was like what Joan had said once about trying not to think about pink elephants. Mark immediately kissed her deeply, and oh, _of course_ he was a great kisser, too.

 _‘Wow, they’re really into it,’_ Sam was thinking. _‘Does he… does he like her better than me? And is Mark the exception to Chloe’s asexuality? What if they’re soulmates? Is he going to leave me for my best friend?!’_

 _‘No, Sam, of course not.’_ Mark tried to pull away from Chloe, but his fake desire to rape her was stronger than his real desire to comfort Sam.

Chloe would have done the comforting for him, but she was distracted by his mouth teasing hers, not to mention her impossibly full bladder. She made the mistake of glancing down at Mark inside her, and she was horrified to notice the bulge in her stomach between her hips. Was her bladder as rock hard as it felt?

Mark’s fingers prodded it gently, making Chloe moan in pain.

 _‘Yeah, it is pretty solid,’_ he thought.

_‘This is not good. If it gets much fuller, it could explode. Or back up into my kidneys.’_

_‘Yeah, that’s possible,’_ Mark thought. _‘Seriously, Chloe, just let go. Damien’s going to make you do it anyway.’_

_‘I don't think I can. Not in front of everyone. It would be too humiliating.’_

_‘You could release just a little bit. They wouldn't know.’_

_‘Ha, and I’m sure you wouldn’t mind, would you?’_

Mark grinned sheepishly. _‘Well, I can’t say it would be a turn-off. But I wouldn’t make a big deal out of it either, if that’s what you’re afraid of.’_

_‘Very chivalrous, Mark.’_

_‘Why, thank you. I try.’_

Chloe concentrated on just releasing a little burst of pee. When she finally succeeded, way more came out than she’d intended, and she had trouble clamping the flow off again. Mark groaned involuntarily, fucking her harder and faster in his excitement.

That first taste of relief had made things worse, not better. Chloe thrashed under Mark, trying to get her hands low enough to hold herself. Mark grabbed her bound hands and forced them over her head as he fucked her frantically.

“Mark!”

 _‘Sorry,’_ he thought. _‘I just really, really want to see you piss yourself while my cock is inside you.’_

Chloe whimpered out loud. “I can’t hold it, I can’t hold it, I can’t—”

“Just go,” Mark urged her.

Chloe shook her head.

“Oh, get over yourself. Actually, you know what?” Damien’s feet planted themselves on either side of Chloe’s head. "I'll help you out."

Chloe panicked, claustrophobia kicking in. The sound of Damien unzipping his pants again triggered a full-on flight reaction, but Mark held her down.

_‘Let me go! I need to get up! Stop!’_

The splatter of warm, wet liquid on her stomach startled Chloe out of struggling. Damien was… peeing on her? It was so unexpected, and the sound, the smell, the sensation… He marked her from stomach to breasts, then stepped back a foot to aim at her mouth and nose. He laughed when she spluttered and gagged. Between the coughing fit and the warm, wet sensation on her skin, Chloe’s bladder finally rebelled against her control.

_‘Oh no!’_

She spasmed painfully around Mark, as if trying to push him out—and pushing out a torrent of her own pee in the process. She almost didn’t recognize the little staccato noises she made as she suddenly orgasmed from the relief. The uncontrollable force of the spray felt as strong as a firehose.

 _‘Oh no, oh no, oh no!’_ Chloe thought, or maybe she actually cried it out loud.

Either way, Mark groaned and leaned back to watch himself literally fucking the piss out of Chloe. It wasn’t coming out in a steady stream now, but rather in long spurts with each pulse of her climax. Mark slowed to a halt, buried deep inside her, and Chloe resignedly let the rest of her piss trickle against his skin.

Her entire body was warm and wet, and it was cooling as the piss seeped into her hair and socks and clothes. She had never felt so awful and humiliated in her entire life. She felt painfully numb, too full of pins and needles to cry this time. But just as strongly, she could hear Mark’s own relief in ‘unloading his balls inside her,’ as he was thinking about it. He was so big, his seed couldn't even leak out of her until he finally pulled out.

 _‘Ugh,’_ she thought.

_‘Sorry.’_

_‘It’s not your fault.’_

_‘But I still enjoyed it. I’m really sorry.’_

Chloe just closed her eyes and tried not to listen to her friends’ thoughts about her. But just like the pink elephant, that just made it worse.

 _‘Wow, I didn’t know Mark was into all that,’_ Sam thought.

 _‘I didn’t know Mark was into all that, and I didn’t need to know, and I still really wish I didn’t,’_ Joan thought.

 _‘What the fuck is happening? What the fuck is Damien making Mark do to Chloe?’_ Adam thought. _‘Never mind. I really, really don’t want to know.’_

“Well, that didn’t go exactly to plan,” Damien observed as he zipped up. “That’s okay, though. I bet Mark will be hard again by the time he finishes playing with Sam."

“Playing with her _how?!”_ Adam exploded. “Are you going to make him rape her too? What the fuck are you trying to do to us? Are you going to make him rape me too? Why are you doing this?!”

“Adam,” Joan said in alarm.

“No, I want to know too,” Sam spoke up, afraid to see Damien go after Adam. “This whole thing is insane! I get being upset, and yeah, maybe I shouldn’t have punched you in the nose. But you’re literally acting like a psychopath! And you wonder why you don’t have any friends? Gee, what a mystery!”

“You don’t know _shit_  about me!” Damien snarled.

“I know plenty!" Sam said. "Mark told me—”

Damien growled and punched Sam in the mouth. She cried out and fell onto her side, trying to nurse her mouth with her shoulder, since her hands were still bound to her thighs. Chloe wasn’t sure, but she almost thought Damien had struck Sam out of fear, not anger. Maybe he didn’t want to know what secrets of his Mark had betrayed to Sam.

“Damien!” Mark steadied Sam, wiping blood off her lip. “What the hell?!”

“Oh, sorry,” Damien spat. “I didn’t mean to touch your precious Sam. She just wouldn’t shut up. Hey, I know! Why don’t you do the punishing for me?”

Mark took a deep breath, filling with Damien's want. “Yeah,” he said. “I think I do want to punish her for you.”

“Well,” Damien said. “Go on, then. Hurt her. Get as extreme as you want. You know she deserves it.”

Mark licked his lips and nodded.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam gulped as Mark yanked his belt out of his discarded pants.

 _‘Better me than Adam,’_  she was thinking frantically, as if trying to convince herself. _‘Definitely better me than Adam. Mark’s probably just going to spank me a little, right? How bad can that be? I love Mark! I’d let him spank me even without mind control.’_

 _‘No, no, no, no, fuck, no, no,’_ Mark thought frantically. _‘God fucking dammit! Why can’t I stop him this time? Fuck, shit, goddammit, shit, fuck.’_

 _‘What exactly does he mean by “extreme”?’_ Chloe asked telepathically.

Mark had a guilty flash of some extreme BDSM videos involving staple guns, cattle prods, and nettles.

 _‘Yikes,’_ Chloe thought.

 _‘I don’t usually watch that shit,’_ Mark defended himself. _‘It’s not like I want to hurt Sam!’_

He did, a little, in the very back of his mind, but Chloe knew what he meant and didn’t correct him. Whatever sick fantasies he had, they truly were buried deep, and he truly didn’t want to do them in reality, especially not without Sam’s enthusiastic consent.

“There she is.” Damien traced Mark’s tattoo down his spine. “Your not-so-imaginary Sam. Remember how you used to whisper her name when you jerked off? Late at night when you figured I was sleeping? Yeah, I remember.”

Sam’s ears turned pink. _‘Is that true?’_

“Yeah,” Mark said. “Yeah, thanks, Damien. Again with the telling the entire room about my sexual fantasies.”

“See, I could understand if you picked her because the sex was better or something,” Damien said, as if Mark hadn’t spoken at all. “I know I’m not… well, I haven’t really been physical with anyone in a long time. Before today, I mean. _Obviously._  But come on! She’s not hotter than me. She’s not better at sex, apparently, although it’s not like you and I, uh… I mean, what else is there?”

“That’s literally the only reason you can think of why I’d rather be with Sam than you?” Mark asked in disgust. “God, you’re a piece of work.”

“Why?” Damien asked earnestly. “Why’d you choose her, then?”

“Because I was already in love with her?” Mark suggested. “Because she saved me from 1810—”

“But I saved you from the AM!” Damien interrupted.

Mark ignored him. “Because she doesn’t force me to talk about every painful thing that’s ever happened to me? Because she’s a genuinely good person?”

 _‘That’s so sweet,’_ Sam thought.

Mark wasn’t finished yet. “Because she not only encourages my interests but goes out of her way to help me spend time on them, while you refused to even let me have a camera? Because she’s never forced me to rape my own sister?”

“Oh my god!” Damien rolled his eyes. “Stop looking a gift horse in the mouth. I didn’t want you to fuck your sister. That was all you.”

“Damien.” Mark took a deep breath. “I’m begging you, if you have any shred of decency in you, to just _stop_ and leave.”

“Hey, I will.” Damien snapped his fingers, prompting Sam to spread her legs for Mark. “Just as soon as you live out all your deepest, darkest fantasies with your precious Sam.”

 _‘Oh God, I don’t even know what Damien means,’_ Sam was thinking. _‘I mean, Mark is a good guy! He’s totally respectful of women, and of me not being ready, and he’s really interested in knowing what I’m interested in, and I’m sure he’s just into, you know… mild kink? Right? Or maybe moderate kink. What counts as moderate? Spanking? I could definitely be into spanking, I guess. No, that’s probably light kink. Wait, why does this matter? I have no idea what Mark’s into. I should have asked. Why did I never ask? Apparently I’m not as considerate about his interests as he thinks.’_

 _‘Fuck!’_ Mark was thinking in response. _‘She has no idea. Why the fuck can’t I flip this ability again?’_

“Enjoy it, Mark.” Damien dropped onto the sofa next to Joan and propped one ankle on his opposite knee. “I want you to do everything your kinky little heart desires.” He put his arm around Joan’s shoulders, prompting her to pull her shoulders in.

“Fuck,” Mark muttered. “Sam, I’m so sorry.”

He doubled over the belt and swung it through the air so it cracked. Sam’s eyes widened.

 _‘Oh shit, is he really going to spank me with that? I’m scared, I’m really really scared. I feel like that’s going to hurt. A lot. Please say he’s just going to, to tie me up with it? Yes, please Mark, just tie up my ankles with that or something—’_ Sam’s scream interrupted her thoughts as Mark whipped her between the legs, sending horrific pain coursing through her most sensitive areas like a lightning bolt. _‘Oh, Jesus Christ, that hurts! Why is he whipping me there, instead of on the bottom? OW!”_

Caleb pounded on the closet door again. That was too much for Adam. He broke down crying and hyperventilating.

“Stop it! Just fucking stop it!” Adam shouted. “Stop hurting her! Stop hurting all of us! Just take me and leave everyone else alone! Why won’t you fucking leave us alone?!”

“Adam, no, shh.” Joan leaned forward and took Adam’s arm. “Deep breaths.”

“I don’t wanna take deep breaths! I want this fucking asshole… loser… _creep_ to leave us alone!”

“Shh, breathe, Adam.” Joan’s eyes were closed. Despite her dread that Damien was about to do something awful, she was trying to calm her emotions for Caleb and Adam. “I know you’re frightened, but I need you to stay calm to keep things from escalating. Can you breathe with me? Deep breath in… good. Deep breath out, all the way out. That’s very good. Let’s take deep breaths, counting to four each way.”

Chloe did the meditation exercise with Joan, and she could hear Sam’s faltering thoughts as she did it—or tried to—as well. It was a little hard with all the pain and screaming.

 _‘How are you holding up?’_ Chloe asked Mark.

 _‘Awful, awful, awful,’_ Mark replied mentally as he lashed Sam’s exposed cunt again with his belt. _‘I never wanted to hurt her like this. I never even wanted her to know I’d ever had so much as a stray thought about hurting her like this. I’d rather die than do this to her. Frankly, I probably deserve to die for some of the sick shit I’ve fantasized about. But I definitely deserve it for this.’_

He whipped her again, and again Sam shrieked like she was being murdered.

 _‘Don’t think like that, Mark,’_ Chloe thought. _‘It’s not your fault. Everyone has thoughts like that. It’s not your fault.’_

_‘Yeah, I’m sure all that makes this way less painful for Sam.’_

“Are you hard yet?” Damien groped Mark's half-erection. “Huh. Almost. Well… I guess just keep going until you’re ready to fuck her. Here, try this.”

He handed Mark the stun gun. For just a second, Mark thought he might be able to use the device on Damien. But it was no use. Instead, Mark jammed the prongs into Sam’s ribs, holding it there and whipping her over and over again while she writhed.

_‘I’m going to pass out, I’m going to faint, I’m going to lose control, why isn’t Mark taking Damien’s ability? Oh I feel weird, I feel weird, I feel like I’m falling and I’m going to throw up, I’m going to lose control, I’m going to—’_

Sam’s panic suddenly exploded into an eerie howl, and then… silence. She fell limp against the floor.

“I think she fainted,” Mark said. “Joanie?”

“She’s faking it.” Damien brushed him off. “Keep going until she wakes up.”

“Wait!” Chloe said. “There’s something weird happening in her brain. Like a… buzz?”

“I hear it too,” Mark said.

Sam arched off the floor, every muscle in her body contracting. Her jaw clenched, her knuckles whitened, her toes pointed, her arms flexed so hard against the ropes that they dug into them.

“What’s happening?” Mark asked in alarm. “What’s wrong with her?”

“I think she’s having a seizure,” Joan said.

Mark’s mind flashed back to a time when Camille had barely managed to bring him back in time, and he’d woken up to her having a seizure in the bed next to his.

“Oh, great,” Damien huffed. “Now she’s faking a seizure? Real original.”

“No, it’s a real one,” Chloe said. “Or… whatever it is is real.”

“Joanie, she’s turning blue!” Mark shook Sam. “Sam! Wake up! Sam!”

“Shaking her won’t help,” Joan said. “We need to—”

The buzzing shifted, and Sam’s tension turned abruptly to convulsing.

“Sam!” Chloe struggled to sit up. “Oh my god, Sam!”

“Does she have a history of seizures she never mentioned to me?” Joan asked.

“Not that she ever told me,” Mark said.

“Or thought about while I was around her,” Chloe said. “But that has to be what it is. Her brain is just… like, static. I’ve never heard anything like that from anyone before.”

“Is that true?” Damien asked Mark, who nodded. “Well…  do we put a spoon in her mouth or something?”

“No!” Joan said. “Just keep her from hurting herself. What time is it?”

Damien checked his phone. “11:47.”

“We need to call 911 if she seizes for more than five minutes,” Joan said. “She could be in a very serious state called _status epilepticus_ and she could suffer from brain damage or even die—”

“No, nuh-uh,” Damien said. “If you think I’m calling 911 for her, you’re not as smart as I thought you were.”

“But Damien—” Mark protested.

“But nothing!” Damien cut him off. “If she dies, she dies.”

“Damien, you can’t mean that,” Joan said. She was desperately trying to come up with a backup plan, a way to save Sam if the seizure lasted longer than five minutes. “I know you better than anyone else here, and you’re not a monster, Damien. You’re just… you’re an intelligent young man who’s too clever and powerful for his own good sometimes. You can be… challenging… but you’re not a murderer.”

“You think to? Well. I guess you don’t know me all that well, then,” Damien said.

“Will you please at least untie her?” Joan asked.

“I think we’d have to cut the ropes off at this point,” Mark said.

“Do we have scissors?” Joan asked.

“We have a knife.”

“No, that could hurt her more than just leaving her restrained,” Joan said. “We’ll just have to hope for the best.”

Chloe watched in alarm as Sam continued to seize on the floor. She banged her foot against the coffee table, and Mark quickly shoved the table farther away.

“Damien, letting someone die will haunt you for the rest of your life,” Joan tried, more desperate now. “Is Sam really the person you want haunting you?”

Damien grinned, but it was cold and nervous. “Guess we’ll have to find out, won’t we?”

“There’s really no changing your mind?” Joan asked.

“No.” Damien crossed his arms. “So… what now? We just wait it out?”

 _‘Of course we wait it out, you fucking… asshat!’_ Mark fumed internally. _‘As opposed to what?! Torturing her while she has a seizure?’_

They fell into a tense silence as Sam thrashed and contracted on the floor.

“How’s her color?” Joan asked.

“It’s better,” Mark said in relief. “She’s not blue at all.”

“Turn her onto her side if you can.”

Mark tried awkwardly to roll Sam over as she thrashed. “Like this?”

“A little more. She should be almost face down, but not quite.”

“Can you hand me one of those pillows?”

Joan awkwardly tossed one down to him. “Don’t put it under her head.”

“Don’t worry. I wasn’t going to.”

Mark propped Sam’s hip onto the pillow. _‘Please let her be okay,’_ he prayed. _‘Please let her wake up, please. I can’t—she can’t—I swear, if I did permanent damage to her, I’ll kill myself, I will—’_

Sam’s muddled thoughts interrupted Mark’s dark musings before Chloe could.

“She’s waking up!”

_‘Where am I? What happened? Why am I on the floor?’_

“Sam, do you know where you are?”

_‘No, and I’m scared. What happened?’_

“Can you tell me your name?” Joan asked.

“She’s fine,” Damien said.

Sam groaned. “Oh, God… not you.”

“Do you remember where you are?” Joan persisted.

“I don’t want to be here…” Sam said. “Not with him.”

“Oh, come on, we were having fun.” Damien sneered. “Okay, Mark, go ahead and—”

“Damien! She just had a seizure!” Joan said reprovingly.

“I did?” Sam asked in groggy alarm. _‘Why is the floor wet? Did I pee myself, or is it sweat? How long was I out?’_

“Damien, let me check on her before you do anything else,” Joan urged.

“Please,” Mark said quietly.

“Okay, fine,” Damien grumbled. “Hurry.”

Joan rose from the couch and made her way to Sam’s side. “Sam, do you know where you are?”

“The safe house,” Sam said. “Which turned out to be less than safe…”

“Do you know today’s date?”

“Is it, um…?” Sam frowned. “It’s Veteran’s Day, right? Eleven-eleven?”

“Very good. Although it might be eleven-twelve by now.” Joan peered into Sam’s eyes, turning her head gently to catch more of the light. “Have you ever had a seizure before?”

“I don’t know…” Sam said nervously.  “I don’t think so. Seizures are generally really serious, right? Do I have epilepsy?”

“Maybe. But it was probably just a reflex seizure,” Joan assured Sam. _‘It could even have been psychogenic.’_ She turned her gaze on Damien, and her eyes narrowed. “Be careful how much pain you inflict on her, or she could have another seizure.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Damien crossed his arms. “Are you done?”

“I can’t exactly do a full evaluation,” Joan said. “Unless you want me to get some equipment or the neuropsych textbook from my suitcase, this is the limit of my diagnostic capability—”

“Then sit back down.”

Joan did, although she was not happy about it.

“Well, what do you want to do, Mark?” Damien asked. “You want to torture her some more?”

“No! No, please, Mark, just fuck me now,” Sam begged, trying to think clearly despite the sleepy fog filling her head. “Please, fuck me in any hole you want, just don’t hurt me again, please fuck me instead, please.”

Mark glanced at Damien for permission.

“Sure, whatever,” Damien said. “As long as you can get hard enough again.”

Mark kicked the belt and stun gun aside, his relief so loud Chloe felt almost like an empath. _‘Thank fuck, okay, I just have to get hard enough to fuck her.’_ Mark stroked his flaccid cock so vigorously it hurt him. _‘Think about insanely hot stuff. But not the insanely hot stuff I usually think about when I’m having trouble. Just… think about getting hard. Get hard, get hard, get hard…”_

“Trouble?” Damien raised an eyebrow.

“No,” Mark snapped. “I’m fine. Just give me a second.”

“Hey, no judgment. I wouldn’t be able to get hard knowing I had to fuck someone that ugly either.”

Sam’s lip quivered, but she didn’t correct him, even in her own head.

“Hey!” Chloe spoke up. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 _‘She’s anything but ugly!’_ Mark agreed silently, grinding his teeth. _‘Watch your mouth!’_

“If you can’t get it up, we can always find something else," Damien said. "I saw a broom in the kitchen earlier.”

“Please, not that.” Sam gave Mark a desperate look. _‘Mark could get hard enough to fuck Joan and Chloe for at least a few minutes, but he can’t get hard with me, so Damien is going to make him hurt me even worse and I’ll probably have another seizure and, I don’t know, die? Why can’t he get hard? Is he only with me because I saved him from 1810 and he feels obligated but he’d rather be with anyone else if he could?!’_

 _‘NO!!! It’s not like that at all,’_ Mark thought frantically. _‘How can she think that?’_

Damien stroked Mark’s belly, then slid his hand down to replace Mark’s around his soft cock. “Does, uh, does this happen to you a lot?”

“Only when I’m forced to rape people I love,” Mark snapped, still preoccupied with Sam’s thoughts.

“Okay, that’s fair,” Damien admitted. “So…. what do you need to get hard?”

Mark ground his teeth. “I need her… to be… into it.”

“I can manage that. What do you want her to say?”

“No! Not like that!” Mark scratched his head in frustration. “I need her to be into it the normal way! No coercion, no shitty ability, just her own… like, love and libido making her beg for my cock.”

“Well…” Damien frowned. “It sounds nice, but I dunno how to make that happen.”

“Why does that not surprise me? You basically admitted to raping everyone you’d ever been with. Yeah, _no shit_ you don’t know how to make someone be into you the normal way.”

“Oh, you wanna be like that? Fine.” Damien pointed to the kitchen. “Go get the broom.”

Sam went very white. “No! Please don’t—”

“Damien, wait—” Mark began.

“No, no, if you can’t get hard, you’ll just have to fuck her some other way.” Damien’s face was set and angry. “Go get it.”

Mark reluctantly rose and grabbed the broom from the kitchen. Sam was shaking violently in her rope bondage when he returned to her.

_‘I’m so scared. But Mark wouldn’t do that to me. Would he? I can’t deal with this, I can’t, it’s too horrifying and humiliating and he really can’t do this to me, he can’t, please don’t let him do this to me.’_

“Go on,” Damien said. “Fuck her with it.”

Mark felt sick. “Damien, please don’t make me.”

“Do it!”

Mark dropped to his knees between Sam’s legs, staring from her to the broom in his hand and then back to her.

“Mark, fight him,” Sam urged him. “I know you can do it. You’ve done it before. You don’t really want Damien to make you do this. Fight him, Mark!”

“Shut up,” Damien said.

And Sam suddenly wanted to shut up. But she still didn’t believe Mark was capable of anything this cruel—something Chloe found sweet, but Mark found painful.

 _‘It’s okay,’_ Sam thought weakly. _‘Mark might enjoy some kinky whipping and electricity, but he would never, ever, ever rape me with a broom handle. He’s going to break free and steal Damien’s ability and untie me and it will all be better and maybe even a little romantic. He would never do this to me. Fight him, Mark. I know you’re strong enough.’_

 _‘Yeah, listen to Sam!’_ Chloe encouraged Mark. _‘I really think you could fight it! The power of love and all that!’_

 _‘I’m trying.’_ Mark’s hand shook. He stroked two fingers down Sam’s slit, enjoying her natural slickness. _‘I’ve been trying this whole time, I promise.’_

 _‘I know,’_ Chloe thought sympathetically. _‘It’s not your fault.’_

 _‘Yes, it is!’_ Mark pulled his hand away from Sam. _‘I don’t understand what’s different this time!’_

Chloe didn’t understand either, and she didn’t want to insult Mark by making something up, so she didn’t try to comfort him further.

 _‘Fight him, Mark,’_ Sam was still encouraging him. _‘I know if you really, truly don’t want something badly enough, you can steal Damien’s power again! You did it before! Fight him! I believe in you! Be my hero! Please, Mark. Please, that broom is huge and probably splintery and totally unsanitary and I’m so scared. You’re stronger than him, I know it! Please don’t hurt me, please don’t rape me, Mark, please.’_

Mark shook with effort as he tried to put the broom down. His hand was almost to the ground when he froze.

“Come on, Mark,” Damien leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I know you want to see that huge piece of wood in her cunt. Go ahead. Teach her a lesson.”

Mark’s mind filled with a deep, all-consuming need to punish Sam. He needed to teach her a lesson, although his thoughts weren’t clear on what that lesson was, exactly. But he knew he really, really wanted to spread her open and force the broom handle inside her to humiliate and hurt her. And so, slowly and yelling at himself internally the whole way, that was what he did.

 _‘Any minute now,’_ Sam assured herself. _‘He’s fighting really hard, I can tell! He’s not going to do this to me, he’s not, he’s not, he would never—’_

Mark shoved the broom handle inside Sam, making her yelp.

_‘No no no, this isn’t happening. Mark would never, Mark would never, he would never ever—’_

Mark twisted the broom inside Sam to force it all the way in. Sam’s eyes filled with tears as she stared up at Mark in disbelief.

_‘No, no, no! Mark, please… Mark, it hurts…’_

Mark knew, and he hated it. But he couldn’t make himself want to stop. He drew the broom part-way out, only to push it all the way back in again. Sam closed her eyes, unable to look at Mark anymore.

Damien smirked. “Yeah, that's it.”

The tears dripped from Sam’s fiercely shut eyes as Mark violated her with the rigid wooden broom handle. It was too thick for her virgin body, and every tiny movement was agony for her.

 _‘Ow, splinters, I think it’s leaving splinters, it hurts, it hurts.’_ Sam sniffled. _‘How could Mark do this to me? I thought he loved me.’_

 _‘I do! I do love you!’_ Mark picked up speed, the tattoo on his biceps flexing with each thrust of the broom.

 _‘Stop, Mark,’_ she begged him. _‘If you love me as much as you say you do, you should be able to stop! Ow, ow, it hurts so much. Mark, stop!’_

But Mark couldn’t stop. He didn’t _want_ to stop. He wanted to hurt her. He wanted to keep raping Sam at such a vicious pace that she couldn’t catch her breath.

It was Joan, whose mind had been working abstractly on a plan this whole time, who stopped it.

“Do you want to know what Sam would hate and Mark would love?” Joan asked.

“What?” Damien asked suspiciously.

“Making her orgasm while Mark goes down on her.”

Damien scoffed. “Nice try, but no way.”

“Sam, do you hate it when Mark goes down on you?” Joan persisted.

“Yes,” Sam said thickly through her tears.

“Why?” Damien demanded.

“I don’t know what to do,” Sam said. “I worry about how I taste. I feel completely exposed and vulnerable. It’s too much stimulation. I don’t know. I just don’t like it.”

“And Mark,” Joan said. “I know you have a… wide range of interests. But if you could only do one sex act for the rest of your life—”

“Going down on people,” Mark said immediately, and his thoughts matched his words. “No question. By a huge margin.”

“Really?” Damien asked, intrigued. “Tell me what you like about it.”

 _‘Yes, thank fuck,’_ Mark thought. _‘Maybe I can distract him.’_

Mark’s hand slowed to a stop. Sam collapsed in as much relief as she could with the broom still inside her. Joan held her breath.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Mark said. “I like everything about it. The taste, the smell, the visuals. The sounds the other person makes. The way their body responds immediately to my tongue.”

“I gotta be honest, Mark.” Damien scratched his neck, looking almost (was Chloe imagining it?) a little bashful. “I took you for more of a top.”

“Oh, I am,” Mark said smoothly. “Who says a top can’t pin someone down and aggressively lick and finger them until they beg for more? I love controlling people using just my mouth. I’m just that good, Damien; I can top the hell out of someone without even putting my dick inside them.”

Damien tried to cross his legs in a way that hid his erection. It only drew Mark’s (and subsequently Chloe’s) attention to it, however. Mark knew exactly what effect he was having on Damien.

“Granted,” Mark went on, “sometimes I can be a real jerk and just edge the other person for hours, until they need to orgasm so badly they want to cry. Then I fuck them as hard and fast as _I_ want, and they’re so desperate by then that they thank me for it.”

Damien licked his lips and swallowed. “My, my,” he said with forced nonchalance. “You really do like all that, huh? Look how hard you are just talking about it.”

“Yup.” Mark smiled grimly. “It’s my number one fetish. And my prudish girlfriend totally hates it.”

 _‘Is that why he doesn’t love me?’_ Sam thought wildly. _‘I’ve been depriving him of his favorite thing this whole time. No wonder he didn’t care about me enough to fight Damien.’_

 _‘She doesn’t really believe that,’_ Chloe promised Mark. _‘You know she doesn’t mean it.’_

Mark ignored her, focusing on Damien. “Well?” he asked. “You said you wanted to give me exactly what I wanted. So can I go down on my fucking girlfriend already?”

“Yeah,” Damien said. “Yeah, I wanna see this.”

Mark quickly threw the broom aside and dropped onto his forearms. He grabbed the ropes around Sam’s hips and used them to pull himself in, inhaling deeply.

 _‘Oh God, what is he doing?’_ Sam thought anxiously. _‘I’m all sweaty and I think I maybe wet myself when I had that seizure and—well, maybe he doesn’t care about that much if he wanted Chloe to pee on him during sex. God, I’m still so angry about that!’_ She squirmed as Mark dragged his tongue over her sensitive clit. _‘And I’m angry that Mark didn’t want to NOT hurt me enough to fight Damien! And I realize that’s completely irrational! I’m being a total… well, I’m being a total jealous bitch! And they can both hear me thinking all this! But I don’t care! Because this is my mind! I’m allowed to think whatever I want inside my own head, even if people are listening! They shouldn't judge me for being a, a human being!’_

“It’s okay, Sam,” Chloe assured her. “We love you. No one is judging you.”

“I am,” Damien said.

“No one except Damien is judging you,” Chloe amended.

That slightly mollified Sam. But that meant she tuned back into what was happening with her body, and she was less than excited to find Mark pushing two fingers into her.

 _‘That hurts and feels weird and I don’t like it,’_ she complained. _‘I wish he would stop.’_

Mark pressed his mouth to her cunt and devoured it like a ripe, juicy peach. Or at least, that was the metaphor in his head.

 _‘This is better for her, right?’_ he asked no one in particular. _‘This is less awful for her, right?’_

“Are you okay, Sam?” Chloe asked.

“Yeah, I’m great,” Sam lied. _‘This is just as bad as the broom. I mean, it hurts a little less, but… Mark, how could you do this to me?’_

Mark’s shoulders drooped, but he didn’t dare slow down in licking her. _‘I was trying to help her.’_

 _‘I know,’_ Chloe thought sympathetically. _‘It’s not your fault. Just like it wasn’t Frank’s fault. You can’t take anything she thinks right now at face value. She’s hurt and scared and groggy and probably still slightly tipsy.’_

 _‘She’s different,’_ Mark thought. _‘Subdued. Broken. Did I break her? Did I break you?’_

_‘Huh?’_

_‘Ever since I raped you—’_

_‘That was Damien, not you.’_

_‘Whatever. Ever since then, your thoughts have been really quiet.’_

_‘I didn’t realize.’_

_‘Yeah.’_ Mark added a third finger to Sam’s cunt, ignoring her mental pleas for him to stop. _‘You’re not dissociating though.’_

They both glanced at Adam, who was completely lost in a fantasy about making out with Caleb on a picnic blanket in the dog park.

 _‘It’s not a bad thing to get a break from your own thoughts,’_ Chloe decided.

“Yes, Mark, that feels so good,” Sam moaned. _‘Why do I want to pretend I’m liking this? Is Damien making me? Gross. I definitely understand now why Joan hates him so much. I hate him. I hate all of this.’_

Mark sighed in his head as he dutifully ate Sam out against her will. _‘Chloe? Did you hate Frank for what he did to you?’_

_‘No. But I also didn’t have unrealistic expectations about him breaking free.’_

_‘It shouldn’t be unrealistic! I did it before!’_

_‘Mark, I don’t think hating yourself is going to make it any easier to take Damien’s ability again.’_

_‘But it might help me take Sam’s.’_

Chloe sat straight up, her head spinning. _‘What?! Mark, NO.’_

 _‘I can’t face whatever Damien might make me do to Sam next.’_ Mark pushed Sam’s legs back and dipped his tongue between her ass cheeks, drawing a high-pitched noise from her.

 _‘Oh God, please no,’_ Sam thought. _‘Please don’t let him go there, no, please.’_

 _‘So you’re just going to abandon her and take a one way ticket back through time?’_ Chloe demanded. _‘I seem to recall Sam and Joan working really hard to get you out of there the first time. And didn’t they say that Sam’s ability being physical means she would die if she got stuck in the past for an extended period of time? You can’t do that, Mark! It’s literally suicide!’_

_‘Don’t worry. It doesn’t seem like I can even use Sam's ability. I’m stuck here. But if I could, I’d do it.’_

_‘And what exactly do you think Damien would do if you did that? Just leave us alone? He’d probably murder us and leave with Adam!’_

“Okay,” Damien interrupted their silent conversation. “You’ve gotta be hard enough by now, Mark, buddy. Let’s get to the main feature, shall we?”

Mark raised his head reluctantly. "Five more minutes?"

"No," Damien said. "I'm bored watching your dead-fish girlfriend try to fake it, and I wanna see you split her open with your cock."

Mark stroked Sam's knee, trying to comfort her, but Sam just shut her eyes in resignation. 


	5. Chapter 5

Sam didn’t even acknowledge that Mark had climbed on top of her, except for a tiny quiver across her face. Her eyes were still shut.

“This would be a whole lot faster and easier if you were into it,” Damien told her.

Sam didn’t respond. Mark kissed her neck, but Sam just tucked her chin down and turned her head.

_ ‘I just want him to leave me alone. I just want him to hurry and finish and go away.’ _

“I’m sorry,” Mark said into her neck.

“Mmm,” Sam said.  _ ‘I know it's not Mark's fault but I hate this, this isn't what our first time was supposed to be like, I hate it, I hate this, this fucking jerk! He's ruining everything! Why can't he just leave us alone?’ _

Mark was hurt, but he didn't disagree with her assessment. “I’ll try to make this fast, I promise.”

_ ‘Yeah, sure,’  _ Sam thought.  _ ‘That’s worked out well so far.’ _

_ ‘Ouch,’  _ Chloe thought on Mark’s behalf.  _ ‘She doesn’t mean it.’ _

_ ‘Yes, she does,’  _ Mark thought.  _ ‘And she should.’ _

_ 'Maybe she's talking about Damien.' _

_ 'It doesn't matter.' _

Even though Sam was somewhat stretched from the broom and wet from Mark's very thorough tongue, it was still a tight fit. Sam sucked air through her teeth as he tried to enter her.

“Ow.”

“I know.”

“Ow!”

“It's okay, I'm in.”

“Ow! It really hurts! I think I’m bleeding. I think you're… spraining something?”

"What?" Mark's brow wrinkled. "Spraining something?"

"It hurts! It really, really hurts."

“Oh, stop complaining.” Damien rolled his eyes. “You're such a drama queen.”

_ ‘That's pretty rich, coming from you,’  _ Chloe thought, but she didn't want to make things worse for Sam by saying it.

Mark pushed in another inch or two, but Sam was so un-aroused that only half his length fit. He fucked her shallowly, willing himself to come as fast as possible.

“Why aren’t you all the way in?” Damien asked. “She’s your precious girlfriend, right? You should be balls deep in her pussy.”

“I’m bottoming out,” Mark said.

“What do you mean?” Damien asked.

“I mean, Damien, her fucking cervix is in the way. There’s literally nowhere else for me to go.”

Damien looked perplexed. “Didn’t the broom… pop it, or whatever?”

Mark scowled. “Jesus, Damien, do you know  _ anything  _ about human anatomy?”

“Hey! You don’t have to be a dick about it. I’ve never fucked a virgin before. I mean, I don’t think I have.”

Everyone’s thoughts echoed the same confusion. Joan was the first to figure it out.

“You’re thinking of the hymen,” Joan said, “which is on the outside, not the inside. The cervix is the opening of the uterus. And it normally stays  _ extremely  _ closed. It would be physiologically impossible for Mark to penetrate it.” ‘ _ Without extreme dilation and even more extreme trauma and severe risk of infection,’  _ Joan thought, but she was absolutely not about to say that out loud.

“Jeez, okay,” Damien snapped. “I didn’t realize there was an end to that particular hole. Forgive me for not being as big as Mark. Although…” He caressed Chloe’s leg. “It gets the job done all right, doesn’t it?”

Chloe shuddered. The hatred everyone was thinking toward Damien was so strong, she wondered if Caleb could handle it. But the kitchen closet was quiet. She could vaguely hear that Frank was holding tightly to Caleb to keep him grounded.

“I  _ said.”  _ Damien dug his nails into Chloe’s calf. “‘It gets the job done all right, doesn’t it?'”

Chloe sighed. “Yes, Damien. Your dick did a perfectly good job of raping me earlier, thanks so much.”

“Any time!” he said in a chipper tone.

Joan gave Damien a look of pure hatred, but he was beaming at Chloe and missed it. 

_ ‘I hate him so much, I hate him so much, I hate him so much.’  _ Sam was grinding her teeth.  _ ‘I literally want to kill him. I didn’t think I could hate him more than I already did when he kidnapped Mark. I want to take his stupid taser and tase his stupid dick until it falls off. I honestly want to stab him in the face until his brains come out.’ _

_ ‘Hey, I’ll drink to that,’  _ Mark thought, his own hatred of Damien fueling him to fuck Sam a little faster.

Sam was so dry, however, that he had to stop a moment later.

“What’s the matter?” Damien asked.

“I’m getting friction burns,” Mark said.

“Oh, you’re saying your frigid girlfriend is dryer than the fucking desert?” Damien asked. “What a shocker.”

The humiliation stung Sam, but she didn’t acknowledge it except by stiffening her body even more.

“Yeah, well, hard to blame her,” Mark said. “Can I get some lube?”

“I guess.” Damien shrugged. “I mean, if you have some here, sure.”

“Damien.” Mark blew out an exasperated breath. “You brought rope, a stun gun, a knife, and a six pack, but you didn’t think to bring lube despite planning on raping just about everyone here?”

“Yeah, I didn’t exactly think that one through.” Damien snorted with laughter.

“When do you ever?” Joan muttered.

“Hey! I heard that!” Damien clapped his hand on Joan’s knee. “Oh, Dr. B.! Still as snarky as ever, even when the other person could literally kill you. That’s what I love about you! Sometimes.”

Mark cleared his throat. “So… can I get up and look for something I can use as lube? This isn’t exactly comfortable.”  _ ‘For either one of us,’  _ Mark added silently, but he didn’t think that would make Damien more motivated to improve the situation.

_ ‘Oh, wow, I’m sooo sorry.’  _ Sam seethed internally.

“Yeah, whatever,” Damien said. "Don't go far."

Mark pushed himself onto his knees, giving Sam an apologetic look. She refused to open her eyes.

_ ‘Gosh, I’m so sorry that my vagina is too dry and tight for you to comfortably rape.' _  Sam's thoughts were practically snarling. _  'Let me just bleed a little more to make it more comfortable for you.’ _

Chloe had never heard Sam’s thoughts so bitter and sarcastic before. But it seemed like an improvement over the brokenness Mark had worried about.

_ ‘Yeah, I’d rather she be mad at me,’  _ Mark thought.  _ ‘I deserve it.’ _

He got to his feet and went into the kitchen. He staggered a little as Caleb’s and Frank’s ability hit him, but he kept his mind on his mission.

_ ‘Lube… lube… please tell me we have something better to use for lube than olive oil.’  _ Mark opened and closed the bare cupboards, holding the bottle of olive oil he’d used to cook dinner.  _ ‘Of course not. I’m not sure what I was even hoping for. Olive oil it is.’ _

He returned to the living room, glad to leave Caleb’s ability behind just three steps in. He knelt in front of Sam again and tipped the olive oil onto his hand. She opened her eyes, curious and then disgusted.

_ ‘Cooking oil?’  _ Sam thought.  _ ‘As if this couldn’t get any more humiliating. Sigh. I guess that’s the trade off for less pain. Hopefully.’ _

Mark slathered oil up and down his cock, using this as an excuse to stroke himself back to full hardness again.  _ ‘The last thing I need is to go soft again,’  _ he thought.  _ ‘Who knows what Damien would do?’ _ He poured more oil onto his fingers and slipped them inside Sam.  _ ‘Let’s make this hurt a little less, Sam. God, I’m so sorry about all of this. I don’t know if we can ever come back from this.’ _

Chloe didn’t know either, but she hoped so.

_ ‘Thanks,’  _ Mark thought sadly.

_ ‘Sam loves you,’  _ Chloe thought.  _ ‘She'll forgive you. You’re a good person, Mark.’ _

Mark laughed out loud at that, causing Sam to set her jaw.

_ ‘He’s laughing at me?!’  _ Sam was enraged.  _ ‘Why the hell is he laughing at me?’  _

“I’m not laughing at you,” Mark said.

Sam relaxed only slightly. Mark wiped a little excess oil on her thigh, immediately throbbed at the sight of her shiny skin, and decided to pour more oil across her stomach and breasts. He tweaked the safety pins piercing her nipples, making her wrinkle her nose from the pain. Then he moved on to the rest of her body, oiling her around the ropes.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked.

“Sorry,” Mark said. “It’s just… seeing you covered in oil is really fucking hot.”

“Oh.” Sam didn’t know what to make of that. But despite the heavy feeling of the oil on her skin, her body finally responded as Mark lovingly rubbed the oil into her breasts, stomach, and legs.

Encouraged, he massaged her a little longer, until Damien started getting restless. Not willing to irritate Damien, Mark quickly settled on top of Sam and used his hand to guide himself back inside. Sam closed her eyes and tried to distance herself from reality again.

_ ‘Real romantic,’ _ Mark thought sarcastically as he sank into Sam’s cunt.  _ ‘Thanks for this, Damien. You’re a real pal. This will totally improve our relationship.’ _

_ ‘It still hurts so much, even with the oil,’  _ Sam worried. _ ‘Is it supposed to hurt this much? I thought there would just be, I don’t know, tearing? Stretching? But this pain is really deep, like ligaments are being moved and it’s really freaking me out. It feels like Mark is so big he’s literally moving things inside me to fit. Is that even possible?’ _

Chloe was as baffled as Sam was. She didn’t remember sex ever feeling like that, not when Mark had been fucking her or even the first time she’d had sex. But Sam’s frame was also much tinier than Chloe’s, with a proportionately smaller pelvis. Maybe Mark really was damaging ligaments.

_ ‘I don’t think that’s a thing.’  _ Mark was sharing Sam’s worry now.  _ ‘Is that a thing?’ _

_ ‘I don’t know. I’ve never heard of it before. I never even thought about that area having ligaments. But… maybe?’ _

_ ‘It’s probably not a real thing,’  _ Mark thought, more to himself than to Chloe.  _ ‘I don’t see how it can be. Yeah, it’s just her first time and she’s anxious, like usual. She doesn’t know what it’s supposed to feel like.’ _

_ ‘I hope so.’ _

Mark hesitated, but then he began thrusting hard and fast. He just wanted to finish, hoping that Damien would finally leave once Mark finished fucking Sam.

The pain was so bad that Sam began to hyperventilate. Tears flooded her neck and hair.

“I think—I think I'm having a panic attack?” she gasped.

“It's fine,” Mark said, secretly hoping she’d take him with her. “Go.”

“I can’t!” Sam cried. “I literally can’t. But… But I always travel when I have a panic attack!”

“Not when I don’t want you to, you don’t,” Damien said. 

Sam's panic attack was having an immediate effect on Mark's erection. He paused, trying to figure out how to stay hard enough.

“Damien,” he said, abruptly deciding to take a gamble.

“Yeah?”

“I want you to rim me.”

Damien looked like he couldn't believe his good luck. “What?”

“You heard me. I want your tongue in my asshole while I fuck my girlfriend.”

Damien sat up straighter, and so did his zipper. “Sounds pretty kinky,” he said, obviously trying to sound casual. “Maybe I don't want to, though.”

“Oh, please,” Mark scoffed, hoping he was right about his hunch. “I can feel you wanting me to tell you to rim me.”

“But I wasn't—” Damien looked surprised. “Huh. You're getting good at that.”

He rose and grabbed the bottle of scotch. He held it to Mark's lips for a few chugs before taking one himself and putting the bottle back on the floor. Then he knelt behind Mark and kissed his neck and shoulders.

“You sure about this?” he asked, as if he genuinely cared about Mark’s consent.

“I thought I told you to get on your hands and knees and worship my asshole,” Mark said coolly. “What are you waiting for? Me to put a leash on you and make you do it?”

A shiver rippled through Damien’s back. He quickly stripped off his shirt and kissed Mark’s back. Mark grabbed the couch pillow from earlier and lifted Sam’s hips by the ropes so he could stick the pillow under her bottom. He lay on top of her again, pulling her legs around his waist and spreading his own knees to give Damien better access.

“God, Mark.” Damien massaged Mark’s ass cheeks. “You have such an amazing ass.”

Mark ignored Damien and kissed Sam, whose panic attack had faded to silent tears again—probably thanks to Damien. She wanted to be quiet and take whatever Mark gave her, and as a result, he was able to push a little more of his cock into her with each thrust. She didn’t exactly want Mark to kiss her, much less fuck her, but she did want to let him do those things—and to make him feel good while he did.

_ ‘Oh God, it hurts so fucking much.’  _ Sam opened her mouth to let Mark’s insistent tongue in. ‘ _ It feels like he’s ripping me apart.’ _

Mark reached back to grab a fistful of Damien’s hair. “Deeper,” he ordered.

Damien groaned and grabbed the front of his jeans as he complied.

_ ‘What is Mark playing at?’  _ Joan wondered.

_ ‘I knew he loved Damien,’  _ Sam thought.  _ ‘I knew it, I knew it, I knew it. He loves Damien and not me, and that’s why he can go along with raping and torturing me—’ _

Mark was about to lose his erection completely. He yanked Damien up by the hair, afraid he’d notice and escalate the situation again.

“What do you want, Mark?” Damien asked breathlessly, licking the tip of his nose to show off how long his tongue was. "Tell me."

“I…” Mark hesitated. “I want you to help me fuck her.”

“Perfect,” Damien said. “How do you want me to do that, Mark? Tell me everything. You want me to get the broom and fuck her ass?”

Sam whimpered, a little clear snot dripping from her nose.  _'Please, God, no. Anything but that.'_

“No,” Mark said. “I want you to fuck her with me. I want you to stick your cock in my girlfriend’s ass so I can feel you and look into your eyes while we fuck her together.”

_ ‘I knew it,’  _ Sam thought bitterly.  _ ‘I knew this would happen. Well, not this specifically. Wait, I don’t want Damien to put his…. They did say it was going in my ass, right? Oh God, oh no, I don’t want that either! Mark, what are you doing?! Please, not that, that would be so so so gross, no, please…’ _

Mark lifted Sam up easily, and Damien kicked the pillow aside and sidled underneath Sam’s back. Mark smeared a little extra oil on Damien’s cock, making it bob eagerly against Sam's back, and then Mark slid his shiny middle finger into Sam’s ass.

_ ‘No, no, that feels weird and gross and wrong,’  _ Sam panicked.  _ “Mark, what the hell are you doing? No, no, do not put anything in my ass! Please, Mark, stop it, please—’ _

Mark slid both his finger and cock out of Sam and helped guide Damien into her ass. At the burning, stinging pain, Sam screamed into the hand Damien clamped over her mouth. This was a completely new pain, and it shook her all the way to her core the way the stun gun had.

“You like that?” Damien asked maliciously into her ear. “You like how your boyfriend just stuck my cock in your ass? That’s because he cares about me more than you.”

_ ‘I know.’  _ Sam wept quietly.  _ ‘I know he does. He’s always cared about you more than me. I knew it all along but didn’t want to admit it.’ _

Damien rocked his hips, fucking Sam’s ass and rubbing her against Mark at the same time. Despite his earlier claim that he would have trouble getting hard fucking someone as “ugly” as Sam, Damien was seemingly having no trouble with that. Mark rested his cock on top of Sam’s well-oiled cunt and watched lazily as Damien did all the work masturbating him.

“Come on, Mark,” Damien urged him. “Fuck her with me.”

Mark grasped his cock and reinserted it in Sam’s cunt. Sam whined; Damien moaned obscenely. Chloe’s injured head ached so hard from the intensity of their thoughts it made her nauseated.

“Oh fuck, that feels amazing,” Damien said. “I can totally feel your cock, Mark. It’s just on the other side. She’s so tight with both of us filling her up, oh fuck...”

_ ‘So full, too full, I don’t like this, it’s too much, it’s too much stimulation, Mark, stop it, please.’ _

Mark tugged Sam by the ponytail until her head was resting on Damien’s shoulder—out of the way so Mark could lean in and kiss Damien. 

_ ‘It’s like I’m not even here,’ _ Sam thought in despair. _ ‘They might as well be having sex with each other. Am I really here, or am I traveling, or do I even exist at all? Am I real? I don't think I'm real.’ _

For just a second, the mental link was so strong Chloe could almost feel what Mark was feeling—the tight warmth of Sam’s virgin cunt, the slickness of the sweat and oil between her knees and Mark’s ribs, the fullness in his balls, the taste of Damien’s lips. But worst of all was the sickening, artificial need to hurt and dominate and humiliate the woman he loved. Chloe was relieved when the connection fizzled out again.

“Jesus, Mark.” Damien gulped down air as Mark finally raised his head. “Wow.”

“I’m glad one of you is enjoying it,” Mark said.

“Hey!” Damien gripped Sam’s face from behind, forcing her to look into Mark’s face. “Yeah, don’t think I didn’t notice you being ungrateful. Look Mark in the eye and tell him thank you.”

“Th—thank you,” Sam stammered, focusing on Mark's mouth instead of his eyes.

“For what?” Damien persisted.

“For… for having sex with me?” Sam chewed on her lip.

Damien slapped her.  “No, Mark deserves better than that. Tell him you love taking his big cock.”

“I—” Sam tried to lower her head. “I love—”

That time, Mark fulfilled Damien’s desire to slap Sam. Tears spilled from her eyes, but she didn’t want to complain about it.

“Look him in the eye while you tell him,” Damien ordered. “Show him some proper respect. Or maybe you don’t think Mark deserves respect?”

“No, I do!” Sam suddenly wanted to look straight into Mark’s warm eyes, despite her shyness. “I… I love taking your big cock, Mark! Thank you for fucking me with it.”

_ ‘Could this be any more awkward?’  _ Mark wondered. “Uh, sure. Glad you like it.”

“Beg him to choke you while he fucks you,” Damien said.

“Please—” Sam swallowed hard. “Please choke me while you fuck me, Mark.”

Mark wrapped his hand around Sam’s throat and squeezed.  _ ‘Shit, no, no. I’m not into snuff, right? Yeah, thank God, I’ve never gotten off to snuff. Worst case scenario, she passes out, right? I’m just scaring her a little. Goddammit, I hate that this turns me on.’ _

_ ‘Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me,’  _ Sam thought over and over again. _ ‘Mark, I know you’re in there. Please don’t kill me.’ _

_ ‘I’m not going to kill you, I promise,’ _ Mark thought back.  _ ‘Fucking Damien, just let me talk to her!’ _

_ ‘Please don’t kill me, Mark,’ _ Sam begged.

“He’s not going to,” Chloe said aloud.

“Wha—?” Damien scowled at her. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Chloe said. “Delirious. Head injury, remember?”

“Yeah, whatever.” 

Damien turned his attention back to Sam, who was relaxing slightly now from Chloe's assurance.

“Getting fucked by a cock that huge is a privilege,” Damien said. “I bet Mark would think it was hot if you begged him to destroy your pussy. How about it?”

Sam shook her head. Mark slapped her on Damien's behalf again.

Damien groped Sam from behind and put his mouth right on her ear. “I  _ s aid _ _,_ beg Mark to destroy your pussy,” he said so softly Chloe wasn’t sure if she actually heard it or if it was just echoed in Sam’s mind.

Sam shook her head again. Damien twisted the safety pins in her nipples until she screamed.

“All right, okay! Mark, please d–destroy…” Sam cringed. “Destroy my pussy.”

“Come on.” Damien twisted Sam’s nipples so hard she was genuinely afraid they might tear. “You can do better than that. Get creative.”

“OW, FUCK, OKAY!” Sam was desperate to stop the pain in her breasts. “Mark, ah, destroy me! Please, destroy my pussy, please fuck me so hard you tear me open, Mark. I don’t know what to say, ow, just stop it! Tear me apart, Mark, please, destroy me!”

That was all the encouragement Mark needed. He jackhammered into Sam, willed by Damien to use his cock to really punish her—for what, Mark still wasn’t sure. Mark slapped her once again when she tried to wiggle her neck out of his grip, never faltering in fucking her.

“Oh, shit, look at him go,” Damien laughed. “You’re going to be all stretched out when he’s done with you. You’re a virgin, right? Well, you  _ were  _ one, right?”

Sam nodded through her tears. She wished she could pass out or have another seizure.

“Wow, sucks to be you. I bet you’re in a ton of pain, huh?”

“Yes. It really hurts, Damien. Please let him stop. Please, have mercy on me.”

Damien’s laughed even more loudly. “Haha, God! You don’t know how badly I wanted to hear you say that. Wow. But, uh… nah. I’d rather watch Mark have the fun he deserves. The fun  _ you’ve  _ been denying him for months.”

“That was wrong of me,” Sam murmured, really believing it. “I’m sorry, Mark.”

Mark’s only response was to slam harder into her cervix. Sam’s toes trembled from the pain with each thrust. Mark finally released Sam’s neck to instead grip the base of her ponytail. Damien immediately choked Sam from behind in Mark’s place.

“He’s really tearing you up, huh?” Damien sounded… envious? “Between the two of us, you won’t be able to walk for a week. You’re going to be so loose when Mark gets done with you.”

Sam just sniffled quietly.  _ ‘Oh my God, is that true? I don’t want that to be true.”  _

“Yeah, see, you’re crying, but you don’t actually hate it. I can feel your wants, remember? And besides that, with my cock planted in your asshole, I can feel when you’re liking something. And you’re really liking this. Aren’t you?”

Sam didn’t answer.  _ ‘This is so humiliating. I’m so full of their cocks I feel like I’m going to explode. And add in Mark pulling my hair, and Damien choking me, oh God, oh no, what’s wrong with me?’ _

“Say it!” Damien demanded.

“Okay, yes! I like this, and I want you to hurt me, Mark, please. I want you to fuck me and hurt me until I bleed!” Sam confessed. “Destroy my cunt, Mark! Destroy me, destroy me, please really destroy me.”

“Oh boy,” Mark said as her words nearly made him ‘blow his load.’ “Uh, yeah, I can do that."

Mark and Damien both fucked Sam hard and fast, Mark leaning in to kiss Damien again. It didn’t take much to send Sam’s overstimulated body over the edge. 

“Oh, God, Mark!”

She orgasmed so hard she couldn’t think about anything else for a solid thirty seconds. When she finished, she was so humiliated she couldn’t open her eyes or even think about what had just happened. Chloe knew the feeling way too well.

Mark and Damien kept making out and fucking Sam like she was a self-heating fleshlight—that was what Mark was angrily thinking, anyway. He tugged on Damien’s lower lip with his teeth and, while Damien was distracted, Mark managed just a second of rebellion in stroking Sam’s cheek with the back of his fingers.

_ ‘I hope she understands I don’t really think of her as just an object,’  _ Mark thought.  _ ‘And I definitely don’t love Damien, especially not more than her! God, of all the awful things he’s done—’ _

At Mark’s touch, Sam finally shifted her thoughts back to him.  _ ‘Mark, if you're still in there, and you're still fighting, and you still care about me… Could you hold my hand? Or squeeze it? Just give me a sign, please.’ _

_ ‘Yes! Yes, just… argh!’  _ Mark’s hands only wanted to hurt Sam again, and his anguish over that was unbearable.  _ ‘Chloe, Chloe, please help me—’  _

Chloe had already started inching toward Mark. She gently pried his hand off Sam's hip and placed it on top of Sam’s hand. Mark immediately squeezed as hard as he could. He was satisfied on both levels when she winced in pain and opened her eyes to look at him.

_ ‘I have a plan, and I promise I’m trying to save everyone,’  _ Mark thought.  _'Just trust me.'_

Sam couldn’t hear him, but she squeezed his hand back.  _ ‘I love you, Mark. I’m sure you’re doing your best.’ _

_ ‘I’m trying…’  _ Mark sighed aloud.  _ ‘I just have to figure out the best way to do it.’ _

_ ‘You’ll figure it out,’  _ Chloe encouraged him, noting the vague idea and trying to help him brainstorm it.  _'I think you're on the right track.'_

“Sit up,” Mark said abruptly, shifting back onto his knees.

“Huh?” Damien snapped out of the happy trance he’d been in.

“I want to finish on your face,” Mark said. "Both of you. Sit up."

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Damien said. “Whatever you want.”

He sat up, forcing Sam upright with him. Mark helped Damien get her onto her knees, so she was straddling his lap with her back to Damien’s chest.

“Perfect,” Mark said with a tight, satisfied grin.  _'God, I hope this works.'_


	6. Chapter 6

With Sam kneeling in front of him, Mark finally had a chance to stroke her hair lovingly. But then Damien started paying attention again, so Mark grabbed her ponytail again. 

“All right, Sam,” Damien said. “Mark is way out of your league, and you know it. Am I right?”

Sam nodded, her gaze dropping to the floor in shame.

“So clean his cock,” Damien ordered. “It’s the least you can do after he was nice enough to pity-fuck you.”

_ ‘No, that’s not true!’  _ Mark screamed in his head.  _ ‘Pity fuck?! If anyone’s out of the other person’s league, it’s the heiress with a master’s degree and three houses, not the unemployed photographer. Sam, Sam, please don’t listen to him.’ _

Fresh tears sparkled in Sam’s eyes as she stuck out her tongue and methodically licked Mark’s cock clean.

“Now worship him," Damien said.

Sam froze, uncertain what to do next.

“I said  _ worship!” _ Damien forced her head forward. “Kiss it! Rub your face all over it! Act like you enjoy it!”

Sam nuzzled Mark’s cock with her face.  _ ‘God, even after all this, his skin still smells so good. Am I doing this right? What does ‘worshiping’ a cock look like?’  _ She kissed the tip of his cock.  _ ‘Does he even like this?’ _ She looked up at his face, trying to see if he was pleased. Mark smacked her face lightly with his cock to show his appreciation.

“Does that mean you do or don’t like it?” Sam asked.

“God, you’re so ungrateful.” Damien slapped her shoulder. “Just suck him off.”

Sam’s thoughts were frantic, distracted as she tried to obey Damien.

_ ‘I don’t know how to do this, I don’t know what I’m doing, Mark is going to be so disappointed in me—wait, why do I care about that? Mark knows this isn’t how it will normally be. Or… would… normally be? Is he going to want to be with me after this? Not because I’m bad at sex, although maybe that too, but… God, this is so not the time for that! Why am I like this?’ _

She opened her mouth without fully realizing and sucked tentatively on the tip of Mark's cock. If Mark widened his stance enough, Sam could suck him off while riding Damien at the same time. Damien pushed Sam's head forward until she choked. He compelled Mark to hold her by the ponytail and facefuck her. Sam gagged violently until she eventually spit thick, clear saliva onto her chest. Mark found it a turn-on, but Damien apparently disagreed.

“You call that a blowjob?” Damien asked in disgust. “Move, amateur.”

Without pulling out of her ass, he pulled himself onto his knees so he was kneeling just behind her and could continue fucking her ass while he “worshipped” Mark. He grasped Mark’s cock, and as he gently jerked the shaft, his lips enveloped the head and he slurped noisily.

“Holy fuck.” Mark’s fingers combed through Damien’s unruly hair. “Jesus, Damien.”

“Mmhmm,” Damien said, and he somehow managed to sound way too smooth even with a dick muffling him.

_ ‘I should not be getting turned on by this,’  _ Sam was thinking as Damien subconsciously made her fuck herself on his cock.  _ ‘Or jealous. What the actual hell is wrong with me?!” _

Damien sucked Mark like an expert, and Chloe was only slightly surprised when he took Mark’s entire length down his throat.

“Fuck, Damien, fuck.” Mark grabbed Damien’s hair and thrust his hips into Damien’s face. “Oh, fuck…”

_ ‘Damien is so much better at all of this than I am,’  _ Sam thought in a panic.  _ ‘Mark is definitely going to leave me for Damien.' _

_ ‘Sam, that’s ridiculous,’  _ Mark thought in exasperation, even though he knew she couldn’t hear him.  _ ‘He’s a terrible person, and you’re the love of my life.’ _

But Sam still couldn’t hear him, so she continued silently fretting about Damien’s impressive deep-throating skills. Mark fucked Damien’s throat fast and hard, choking him in his excitement and his desire to get it over with as fast as possible. He pulled out just in time to shoot a thick white line across his face. 

“Fuck, yes.” Damien opened his mouth wide. "Mmm."

Mark shot the rest of his load at Damien’s tongue, mostly hitting his target but occasionally shooting a little wide. A drop landed on Sam’s cheek, and Damien pulled her head back just in time for Mark to squeeze the last drops of semen onto her tongue. Damien used her ponytail to wipe his face the rest of the way clean. 

“Mm, your jizz tastes fucking delicious, Mark.” Damien licked his lips noisily as he fucked Sam where she stood on her knees in front of him. “Tell Mark his jizz tastes amazing.”

“Your jizz tastes amazing,” Sam said, defeated.

“Now tell him to piss on you.”

Sam’s head jerked around so she could stare at Damien in shock. "What?!"

“I know you heard me.”

“I… I don’t know if I can…”

Damien rolled his eyes. “You can if I say you can. Beg him to piss on you.”

Sam’s face twitched. “I.. Mark…”  

_ ‘How did he even know you needed to go?”  _ Chloe wondered.

_ ‘It’s part of his ability,’  _ Mark thought unhappily.  _ ‘He could usually read what I wanted—physically—while we were on the road together, especially when I couldn't really walk. I never had to ask for a rest stop.’ _

"God, you're totally useless." Damien choked Sam from behind again. “Fine, I'll do it. Mark, please piss on us. Soak us with your cock.”

Mark pointed his softening cock at Sam’s red face, and a moment later, a halting, light-yellow stream shot across her face. Sam recoiled just for a moment, then she closed her eyes tight and scrunched up her nose.

“Open your mouth,” Damien said. “Swallow his piss.”

Sam reluctantly obeyed. Mark fed the tip of his cock past her lips, and Sam reluctantly began to swallow as he filled her throat.

“Oh, fuck,” Damien whispered, pumping his hips against Sam's. "Yeah, drink Mark's piss like a good girlfriend."

_ ‘Ugh, God, this is disgusting,’  _ Sam thought as she choked down gulp after gulp of Mark’s piss.  _ ‘And I can feel Damien twitching, yuck. Ew. Is he getting off on this? Why?! I don’t understand the appeal.’ _

Sam caught a whiff of the urine and gagged hard. Mark pulled out and hosed down Sam’s face. His hot piss trickled down her breasts and belly and thighs. Damien grunted, and Mark directed the stream over Sam’s shoulder at his face. Damien opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue, looking pleasantly surprised.

“Yeah, Mark, that’s it,” he said. “Mark us as your property.”

_ ‘Is that what Damien was doing to me?’  _ Chloe realized with horror.  _ ‘Marking me as his?’ _

Damien’s piss had cooled on her hair and clothes, but it was still all she could smell. Chloe shivered, sharing Sam's nausea. Damien never missed a beat fucking Sam's ass, even as he leaned forward to seal his lips around Mark's pissing cock. His throat pulsed against Sam's shoulder as he chugged the pee filling his mouth.

_ ‘If this is really what Mark’s into, I can never be what he wants,’ Sam _ thought.  _ ‘I can’t compete with Damien. I’m not remotely interesting or kinky enough. I hate all of this, and I hate that I’m hating it, because I don’t want to let Mark down, but Jesus, I really fucking hate all of this!’ _

_ ‘You’re not letting me down,’  _ Mark thought desperately.  _ ‘I fucking hate all of this too! Please don't give up on me, Sam. I love you.’ _

But Sam lowered her eyes, too ashamed to make eye contact with him—both from her disinterest in his kinks and from being soaked with his piss. Damien, on the other hand, grabbed the base of Mark’s cock. He directed the stream all over his and Sam's faces for a moment before gazing into Mark’s eyes as he resumed drinking. Mark grabbed Damien’s head and pulled him in until his nose was pressed into Mark’s pubes. Damien groaned happily in response.

_ ‘I think I have an idea,’  _ Mark thought.  _ ‘It’s going to hurt Sam a lot, probably Joan too, but I think they’ll eventually understand. Can you tell them the truth later?’ _

_ 'Why can't you tell them yourself?' _ Chloe fretted. ‘You’re _ not doing anything suicidal, right?’ _

_ ‘No. At least, I hope not. Can you ask Adam if he wants me to go with him and Damien?’ _

Chloe whispered the question into Adam’s ear. His thought was a giant  _ 'YES' _ that echoed between Mark’s and Chloe’s minds.

_ ‘Okay then,’  _ Mark thought.  _ 'I'll do my best.' _

“Mark,” Damien grunted as Mark’s cock slipped out of his mouth, spilling its last few drops onto Sam's head. “Mark, I’m about to blow my load. Can I do it in your girlfriend’s ass?”

“No,” Mark said.

“What?” Damien asked in surprise.

“She doesn’t deserve it,” Mark said. “You belong to me, Damien. Every last drop of you is mine, and you'd better not fucking waste any on  _ her."  _

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, that’s gonna make me—” Damien pushed Sam off him to the side, making her land hard on her shoulder. “Shit. Close one.”

“Get on your back,” Mark commanded.

Damien scrambled to obey, his cock standing straight up as he lay on his back. Mark descended on him like a wolf going after raw meat. He scooped Damien’s legs up and rested them on his shoulders, licking him from balls to tip as soon as he settled his face between Damien’s thighs.

_ ‘Oh God, please don’t let me have gotten Damien’s dick dirty,’  _ Sam thought frantically.  _ ‘I couldn’t bear the humiliation. Please don’t let it be dirty…’ _

_ ‘It’s fine,”  _ Mark thought, even though he knew she couldn’t hear him.  _ ‘It’s perfectly clean. It just tastes like you, which is not a turn-off at all.’ _

His anger had finally cooled into a solid plan, and that was what drove him as he gazed into Damien’s eyes while sucking his cock.

“Oh, holy shit, Mark!” Damien wove his fingers in Mark’s hair. “Sam really never let you do this?”

Mark shook his head.

“God. Seriously, her loss. Your mouth is amazing. You can go down on me as long as you want Mark… Jesus Christ, holy shit,  _ Mark!" _

Chloe didn’t need to read his mind to know Damien was showing off, making himself look oh so much better for Mark than Sam. She would have been more pissed off if Mark had believed him, instead of being mostly annoyed and only slightly turned on. 

_ ‘Oh, I get it now,’  _ Sam thought.  _ ‘The “watching an expert at work” thing. Mark really is an expert because he has the same parts… and he is really good at that… but I think he was good at going down on me, too. I was just too much of a newbie to appreciate it.’ _

“Mark, wait,” Damien warned. "I can't, I'm going to—"

Mark abandoned Damien’s wet cock and shoved his face between Damien’s ass cheeks. Chloe could almost vicariously feel the hairs tickling Mark’s face and smell the sweat and earthy skin and pheromone smells Mark was smelling. Yech. Mark ignored Choe's commentary and stuck his tongue straight up Damien’s ass. Damien tried to stroke his cock, which was leaking pathetically now, but Mark grabbed his hand and held it possessively.

“Suck my cock again, Mark, please,” Damien begged. “I'm ready. I need your mouth on my cock. Oh fuck, yes, thank you, Mark!”

Mark stuck two fingers up Damien’s ass as he sucked him off. Damien cried out in pleasure.

“Mark, stop,” he said in another panic. When Mark didn’t stop, he squirmed and said, “Mark, seriously, I’m gonna—oh fuck, shit, fuck!”

Damien shut his eyes and his mouth fell open. He panted like a fish on a dock while thrusting his hips frantically. When he cracked open his eyes again a few seconds later, Mark was still staring up at him. They gazed into each other’s eyes as Mark’s throat spasmed, then, just to prove he'd swallowed, Mark opened his mouth to show it was empty.

“That’s so fucking hot,” Damien gasped. "Mark... I, I knew you cared about me."

Mark lay on top of Damien, amused by how easy it was to overpower him like this, and kissed him on the mouth.

“Open your mouth," Mark said. "Taste your fucking jizz."

“Oh God, yeah.” Damien eagerly kissed Mark, working his tongue all over the inside of Mark’s mouth.

As they kissed, Damien’s residual tension faded. Mark cupped his cheek and feigned the loving boyfriend act. It was just like that year he experimented with being a sugar baby back in college _ —’Don’t tell Joanie about that, okay, Chloe?’— _ but with a lot more anger and, to Mark’s immense frustration, genuine attraction.

_ ‘I know, I’m fucked up,’  _ Mark thought guiltily.

_ ‘It’s okay, Mark. I mean, who isn’t at least a little fucked up?’  _ Chloe tried to console Mark.  _ ‘Besides, it makes sense! I’m not sure if you’re even aware you’re thinking about it, because it’s kind of hidden under the surface, but you have all these warm, safe memories of Damien walking you out of the AM and then taking care of you after. And he did do all those things! I think your feelings make perfect sense.’ _

_ ‘Thanks. I just hope they’re enough to get the job done.’ _

_ ‘Fingers crossed,’  _ Chloe thought.

Mark dragged his fingers across the stubble under Damien’s chin.

“That was fucking amazing,” Mark said. “I think I love you, Damien.”

“Really?” Damien asked in surprise. "You—you mean that?"

Chloe could feel through Mark how much Damien wanted him to tell the truth, but also to just say he meant it whether it was true or not.

“Yeah,” Mark said, mostly honestly. “My feelings aren’t super straightforward about anything anymore, and they get extra confused when it comes to you. But I think so, yeah.”

Damien clung to Mark, who was ignoring Sam’s hurt thoughts and Joan’s worried ones. 

“I knew you liked me,” Damien crooned. “I knew Dr. B. was wrong. We  _ did  _ have a connection.”

“Yep, you were right.” Mark nibbled at Damien’s neck. “All those hotel rooms, those road trips? We really bonded. I get so turned on and happy when I hear your voice. And right now, I just want to be alone with you in one of those hotel rooms.”

“Huh?”

“Let’s get out of here.” Mark kissed Damien again. “Let's get back on the road. We never did make it to the Grand Canyon. Let’s go steal some hotel rooms, in which we have nasty, kinky, piss-filled sex all day. Just you and me.”

“Mark,” Joan interrupted, alarmed. “What are you doing?”

“Quiet.” Damien looked absolutely on cloud 9. “Road trip part two, huh?”  Damien scowled suddenly. “What about your girlfriend?”

“Sam?” Mark scoffed. “Please. If I’d had any sex at all in the past five years, especially sex that good, I would have realized sooner what a useless dead fish she is in bed. You were right. I  _ do  _ deserve better.”

Sam, who had thought she was finally too broken to feel anything else, sniffled at that. It was nearly as much from the humiliation as it was from the pain.

“You helped me realize what I was missing out on,” Mark went on. “And God, it's so good! Come on, please. Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

Damien hesitated. “All right,” he said finally. “Let’s go.”

“Just the two of us?” Mark asked.

“Yeah. And the kid.”

Adam suddenly tuned straight back into reality, despite his name not having been mentioned anywhere. 

Mark groaned. “Oh, come on, Damien! I don’t want him around! Why do you even need Wadsworth? I bet we could figure it out on our own. Do our own research.”

“You mean make our own serum or whatever?”

“No. I mean find our own way so we didn’t need that stuff.” Mark hesitated, trying to figure out if he really wanted to say the next part or not. “You know… This isn’t exactly pleasant, but I think Wadsworth made that serum out of, well… my DNA.”

“Uh… creepy?”

“Yeah. But if you’re exposed to my DNA other ways... I'm just saying, I bet you wouldn’t need that shit.”

Damien thought about it. “No, we’re still taking him. Just to be safe.”

“Safe?! Damien, if we take him, Wadsworth won’t stop until we’re both legally dead and hooked up to tubes in a tank somewhere.” 

But Mark could tell there was no persuading Damien otherwise.

_ ‘It’s okay,’  _ Adam thought.  _ ‘I’m scared shitless, but I’ll feel a whole lot better if you come with us.’ _

“Fine,” Mark said. “But we give him back the second we can, okay? I don’t want to be responsible for him.”

“Yeah, okay,” Damien said. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

With one last kiss, Mark rose and started gathering his clothes. “Should I untie them?” he asked.

“Nah,” Damien said. “Cut Sam loose. I've got her under the most control right now. She can release everyone else when my effect wears off.”

Mark cut and loosened Sam’s bonds as carefully as he could while she cried silently. While Damien went to rinse off and get dressed, Mark quickly left a kiss on Sam’s head.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I love you so much.”

“Mark,” Joan wept. “Don’t go again, please.”

“I’ll be back,” Mark assured her, giving her a head kiss as well. “I love you, Joanie.”

_ ‘Be careful,’  _ Chloe thought.  _ “If Damien finds out—’ _

_ ‘He won’t,’  _ Mark assured her.  _ ‘There's enough truth to keep it going. I'm really sorry about everything. Fill the others in, okay?’ _

_ ‘I will.’ _

"Ready to go?" Damien asked, walking into the room.

"Born ready." Mark put his arm around Damien's shoulders.

Less than a minute later, Damien's car screeched off, taking Mark and Adam away from them.

“Sam, untie me,” Joan begged. "We have to go after them. You have to untie me."

“I can’t,” Sam said apologetically. “I’m trying, I just… I don’t want to? Gah!”

“Mark!” Joan cried. “Mark, no. This  _ cannot  _ be happening. Not again.”

The engine noise faded into the night. Joan rocked back and forth, willing herself to want to move. But most of her wasn’t really there on the floor of Sam’s safehouse, not really.

_ She was seven years and thirteen days old, and she was unsupervised as usual, and she was rocking back and forth on the cold concrete and crunchy leaves under the picnic shelter. “I lost my baby brother,” she sobbed, growing more hysterical by the moment. “I lost my baby brother, and I don’t know how to find him!” _

But this time, there was no kind neighbor to hug Joan and mobilize her own children to search for Mark until they found him (napping inexplicably in a tree he couldn’t possibly have climbed). There was only Sam hyperventilating, Chloe about to pass out from the pain in her head, and silence from the kitchen closet.   
  



	7. Chapter 7

The second Sam recovered from Damien’s control, she immediately panicked and disappeared. But that was all right, because Joan had recovered several minutes before her, and she and Chloe had almost worked their bonds loose by then.

“Okay, now make a fist for me?” Joan asked Chloe. "Keep the rope looped around your fingers."

Chloe did, and Joan managed to slip her wrist free. She rubbed it briefly before untying Chloe and moving to the kitchen. Chloe lingered on the couch, fighting a dizzy spell, while Joan went to free Caleb and Frank.

“Oh, no,” Joan said in dismay as she opened the closet door. “Caleb…”

Chloe saw through Joan’s eyes that Caleb had clawed at his face, neck, and wrists. He had vomited all over his shirt, and his hands were bloody and bruised from where he’d apparently banged on the door until breaking a couple of fingers. He stared up at Joan wildly. Frank’s face and arms were also dripping blood in a few spots, and as Chloe neared them, she picked up that Caleb had gone slightly insane during Sam's torture, and he’d clawed at Frank while sharing her pain.

“Caleb, are you all right?” Joan reached down and untied him.

“Dr. Bright.” Caleb burst into tears. “Dr. Bright, I felt it. I felt everything. It was… it was…. ”

“Horrific,” Frank finished weakly.

Caleb nodded, snot flowing down to his chin. “I’ve never felt anything so bad in my entire life.”

“Yeah. I don’t know if I have, either,” Frank said. _‘And I’ve seen some shit.’_

Sam whooshed back, her thoughts a little calmer now. “Phew,” she said. “Sorry. Oh, where is everyone?”

Chloe returned to the living room and quickly untied Sam. She helped her get dressed, and a moment later, Sam was pulling her shirt the rest of the way down as the two of them followed Joan into the kitchen.

“It was like it was happening to me,” Caleb was saying. "Not physically. But like, emotionally."

“That sounds so terrible,” Chloe remarked.

“I wanted to die,” Caleb said.

“I am so, so sorry, Caleb.” Joan pulled Caleb onto his feet, her knees buckling as his much taller and heavier frame collapsed onto her in a desperate hug. “That must have been unspeakably awful for you.”

“Yeah, it really fucking was.” Caleb stumbled, trying to hold onto Joan. “I could feel him hurting, I mean, I guess it was, he was, like, _raping_ you and Chloe and Sam and Mark and— oh fuck, I almost don’t want to know, but… Did he? I couldn't tell if… Adam was really upset and it was hard to tell…”

“Damien didn't touch him,” Chloe assured Caleb. “We didn't let anyone touch a hair on his head.”

“Good.” Caleb’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Good, thank fuck. I was freaking out.”

“Here, Frank, can you stand?” Sam tried to pull him up. “Sorry I smell so bad.”

“You’re fine. Thank you, Sam.” Frank leaned on the doorframe. “Phew. I finally got Caleb calm, there at the end, and I didn’t want to shake out my foot that had fallen asleep.”

“Caleb, could you sit down for me?” Joan led him to the couch. “I’d like to clean your injuries.”

“Where’s Adam?” Caleb asked. "Why can't I feel him?"

“Why don’t we get you lying down?” Joan evaded the question.

“Chloe, where’s Adam?” Caleb was becoming increasingly agitated, afraid Damien had hurt his boyfriend.

“No no, Adam is fine,” Chloe assured him. “He’s with Mark.”

“And where’s Mark?” Caleb demanded.

“With… with Damien,” Chloe said, already worried about the impending explosion she could hear primed under Caleb’s surface.

“Fuck!” Caleb punched the wall with his already broken hand. “No—no, Dr. Bright, why are you afraid? Why are you afraid of _me?”_

He was right, partially. Chloe could see the fear in Joan’s mind—her worry that Caleb was out of control, her fear that he knew (or would soon know) exactly what Damien had made her do, her flashback to being terrified whenever her father’s fist went through the wall (especially that one time Mark’s head had been so close to it)…

“I’m sorry, Caleb,” Joan said again. “I—you startled me, that’s all.”

“I would never hurt you, Dr. Bright,” Caleb promised.

“I know,” Joan said.

“But…” Caleb began to cry again. “Adam.”

“We’ll get him back,” Joan said. “I _promise,_ Caleb. We _will_ get him back. And Mark.” Her voice cracked as she said her brother’s name.

“He was so afraid!” Caleb blew his nose on his sleeve. “I wanted to fucking kill Damien.”

 _‘We would have been better off if he had,’_ Sam thought.

“Sam!” Chloe gasped.

“What?!” Sam demanded. “I don’t think he actually would have hesitated to kill any one of us to get what he wanted.”

“Oh my God,” Caleb said. “And he has Adam! Fuck! FUCK!”

“That is _not_ helping,” Joan said. “Sam, could you please get my cell phone?”

Sam went through Joan’s purse while Chloe sat next to Caleb on the couch. She wanted to check on Frank, to help him clean up his scratches, but she sensed that he wanted to be alone after such close and prolonged contact with Caleb. Besides, Caleb needed her more, and Frank was doing as well as could be expected.

“Who are you calling?” Caleb asked as Joan scrolled through her contacts. “Annabelle? The AM?”

“Not exactly,” Joan said. “Do you need anything?”

“Uh… I guess some water would be nice,” Caleb said shakily, wiping at his eyes. “And a clean shirt, maybe.”

“I’ll get it,” Sam said, relieved to have something to do.

“Joan?” the person on the other line answered. “I mean, Dr. Bright. Is everything all right? It’s late.”

“Owen,” Joan said, and then a bunch of fond memories came flooding back and she couldn’t say anything else because she was afraid she’d start crying.

“Joan? What is it? It’s—it’s almost two in the morning. What’s wrong?”

“I need you.”

Chloe didn’t need to be a mindreader to know Owen—ew, no, she was going to keep calling him Agent Green—had been waiting years to hear those words from her.

“I’m on my way,” he said.

 _‘Owen has always been good with these kinds of situations,’_ Joan thought.  _'I need his help. I don't know what to do.'_

“Adam!” Caleb sobbed suddenly. “Adam, no! He just fucking took him! ADAM!”

Chloe put her arm around Caleb’s shoulders. He was so distraught he didn't even notice that she was all damp and gross.

“Who is that?” Agent Green asked. “Where are you?”

“I’ll—I’ll text you the address,” Joan said. “And I’ll need you to bring a crisis kit. Uh, multiple crisis kits.”

“Which ones?” Agent Green asked.

“Adam!” Caleb screamed. “Fuck!”

“Uh... Empath, for sure,” Joan said, struggling to think. “Telepath kit if we have one. Or… just, bring a first aid kit for a head injury?”

“Who has the head injury? The telepath?”

“Yes. And… Owen, I need you to bring some SAKs.” _Sexual Assault Kits,_ Joan’s subconscious supplied for Chloe.

“SAKs?” he asked in alarm. _“Plural?_ How many?”

“Um, I suppose… three?”

“Three?! God, Joan—”

“Just the first aid kits, Owen. Not the evidence collection kits.”

“Joan, what happened?! I can get a team together—”

“No, Owen, please,” Joan begged. “That’s the last thing any of us need. Please come alone and don’t tell anyone.”

“I should have done something!” Caleb wailed. “I just let him take him! What if he hurts him?”

“Owen?” Joan asked. “Please. I really need your help. There’s no one else I can turn to.”

“All right,” Agent Green said reluctantly. “I'll keep it quiet—for now. Text me the address and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Joan ended the call and started to text Agent Green, but then she remembered she didn’t have the exact address. When Sam returned with clean clothes for Caleb, Joan handed her the phone.

“Could you please put in the address for this house?” she asked.

Sam set the clothes on the couch and picked up the phone. “Owen Green?” she asked suspiciously. “Joan—”

“Please, Sam. Just do it.”

Sam tapped in the address and handed the phone back to Joan. “Okay, Caleb. Do you want me or Chloe to—” She suddenly went colorless. “Darwin!”

She bolted for the back door. Chloe hesitated.

“Go with her,” Joan said. “Caleb won’t hurt me.”

Chloe nodded. As she followed Sam out the back door, she heard Joan talking calmly to Caleb, guiding him through changing his shirt.

Sam was on her hands and knees, peering under an old picnic table the previous owners had forgotten.

“What are we doing, Sam?” Chloe asked.

“Darwin’s all alone out here, and this is a new place so he’s probably trying to go back to the apartment, and he’s never been an outdoor cat, and, and oh my God, it’s practically still Halloween! Someone’s going to hurt him!”

“I don’t think they will, this far after Halloween,” Chloe said skeptically.

“Darwin?” Sam crawled over and searched under every bush, ignoring Chloe. “Darwin! Darwin!!!”

“Sam, it’s cold, you’re hurt, and to be totally honest, we’re both—how to say this nicely? Oh, forget it, there _is_ no nice way. Sam, we’re both dripping with other people’s pee. It’s gross. Let’s go shower, please?”

“No! Not until I find Darwin. Darwin!!!”

“Sam—”

“Shh!” Sam held up her hand. “Do you hear that?”

“I don’t—”

“Meow!”

Sam jumped up and bolted around the house. “Darwin!”

“Meow!”

Sam dropped to her hands and knees again, barely feeling the pain. She pried the slightly ajar door to the crawlspace the rest of the way open. “Darwin?!”

The cat came bounding out, jumping into Sam’s arms.

“Oh my God, Darwin!” Sam’s tears began to flow as she nuzzled her cat. “I was so scared. I bet you were too, huh? Did the wind close the crawlspace door on you?”

“Meow!” Darwin licked Sam’s shirt.

“Oh, gross, no!” Sam said. “Don’t lick me, Darwin. Chloe’s right—I _am_ disgusting right now. Let’s go inside.”

“You’re weirdly calm right now,” Chloe said as they made their way back to the house.

“As opposed to what? Traveling? Freaking out like Caleb?”

“I guess,” Chloe said. "Honestly, I'm not sure what I expected."

“I read that anxious people are the best to have in a crisis,” Sam said. “Because we’ve already predicted everything that could go wrong in a situation.”

“You predicted Damien would go postal and rape all of us and kidnap Mark and Adam?”

“Well… not exactly that, but close to it,” Sam said. _‘And great. Thanks for reminding me.’_

“Sorry. I'm sure Mark will be back soon.”

“Yeah,” Sam said. _‘I don't know if I even want to see him again.’_

“What?!” Chloe stopped walking. “Why don't you want to see Mark again?”

Sam looked chagrined. “Don't get me wrong! I love him and I don't blame him. I know he's as much a victim as I am. I just… It would be so painful to see him again.”

She was feeling humiliated and confused about the orgasms she’d had, especially given the cruel things he’d said to her and the way he’d left with Damien, and she was starting down a self-flagellating path.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Chloe said. “I orgasmed a few times too, and Damien can’t even manipulate my mind. Bodies are weird.”

“I didn’t—Oh, mind-reading,” Sam said. “God, that’s embarrassing.”

“Sorry. But you have nothing to be ashamed of.” Chloe opened the door for Sam. “And Mark doesn’t really think those things about you. He was trying to protect you. So quit worrying.”

“Worrying is kind of my thing,” Sam said.

“I know,” Chloe said. “But you don’t have to worry about that. Mark loves you.”

They stepped inside the warm house to find a new figure standing with Joan and Caleb.

“Oh, hello,” Agent Green greeted them.

Chloe started. She hadn’t felt his mind inside the house, and that wasn’t something that normally happened to her. She could hear his thoughts distantly now that she was in the same room, but it was still unsettling, like being temporarily deafened.

“Uh, hi,” Sam said, suddenly extremely self-conscious about her bedraggled state.

“You got here fast,” Chloe said to Agent Green.

“Yes, well.” He was wearing shiny shoes and a fancy trench coat and carrying a flawless briefcase, but Chloe heard in his thoughts that he had thrown on yesterday’s clothes the second he’d hung up with Joan. _‘I live very close, and I got here as fast as I could. I don’t normally go over the speed limit, but in this case…’_

Caleb was still clinging to Joan’s arm. Frank’s thoughts were distant, in the upstairs bathroom, it sounded like. Sam let Darwin down, and he immediately hid under the couch.

“Oh well.” Sam shrugged. “As long as he’s inside. Um, does anyone mind if I shower first?”

“No,” Joan said. “Go ahead.”

“Are we really not collecting evidence?” Agent Green gave Joan a look that was… scandalized, almost? He was surprised that she was not following procedure.

“No,” Joan said firmly. “I refuse to subject any of them to that process. We already know Damien did it, and Wadsworth will make sure he goes away forever just for kidnapping Adam.”

The mention of Adam made Caleb groan. “God… Adam…”

“Evidence collection will only traumatize everyone further,” Joan went on. “It won’t change a single outcome, except to make things worse for all of us.”

She was speaking from experience, Chloe realized. Joan and Agent Green were both carrying memories, many of them shared, of cleaning injuries and collecting evidence from atypical-related assaults before. Neither of them felt like evidence collection had been worth the trauma to the victims, even for whatever limited justice the process had brought them.

Agent Green couldn’t disagree with Joan, so he just shrugged. “Very well.”

“Great.” Sam opened her suitcase and pulled out some meticulously packed clothing and a towel. “I’ll try to be fast.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Chloe said. “Do you want company?”

“No, I think I’m okay.” Sam stood up a little straighter. “I could use some alone time. To process, and stuff. Thanks, though.”

She went into the bathroom, giving Agent Green a wide berth so he couldn’t smell her too closely, and shut the door. As the water started, Agent Green set his briefcase on the table and unlocked it. Inside was an assortment of sterile-wrapped equipment. He grabbed one package and unwrapped it, then turned to Caleb.

“All right, Caleb,” he said kindly. “I have some medicine that should—”

When Caleb caught sight of the syringe, he yelled and shoved Agent Green into the wall.

“Caleb, _no_!” Joan grabbed his elbow.

"Don't you fucking stab me with a needle!"

“Caleb, it’s me. It’s Dr. Bright. I need you to calm down.”

“But Dr. Bright, he—he was going to inject something into me.”

“I know, Caleb.” Joan tugged at Caleb’s strong hands. “It’s like an emotional pain medicine, so you can think more clearly and help us find Adam.”

“No! No, he’s with the AM! He’s going to inject me with, with weird science shit and kidnap me and do experiments on me like he did to Mark! No!”

Agent Green gave Joan a reproving look. _‘Joan really shouldn’t be poisoning her patients against us. I wasn’t even involved with Mark’s case.’_

“He’s here to help us,” Joan tried to convince Caleb.

“No! I don’t trust him! I don’t trust anyone at the AM!”

“Caleb, do you trust me?” Joan asked.

Caleb paused. “Yeah. Yeah, I do trust you, Dr. Bright.”

“Then will you let me give you some medicine? Please? Will you trust me?”

Caleb’s shoulders slumped, and he released Agent Green. “Okay.”

Joan took the syringe from Agent Green and quickly injected it into Caleb’s shoulder. “Thank you, Caleb,” Joan spoke soothingly to Caleb as she gave him the medicine. “I appreciate your cooperation.”

Agent Green rubbed his chest, his heart still racing.

“I don’t feel any different,” Caleb said.

“It’ll take a few minutes. Why don’t you lie down again so the medicine doesn’t make you sick?”

“Yeah, okay,” Caleb agreed.

By the time Joan got him lying down, Caleb was already acting slightly drugged. He smiled sleepily as Joan took his shoes off.

“Dr. Bright?”

“Yes, Caleb?” She knelt by his side.

“I think I’m gonna take a nap. Will you... like, pet my head?”

“Of course.”

She sat next to him on the couch, and he curled up and used her leg as a pillow. Joan tentatively stroked his hair.

“I’m sorry I didn’t protect you,” Caleb said. “Or Sam, or Chloe, or Mark, or…” His chin trembled. _“Adam.”_

“It wasn’t your job to protect us,” Joan assured him. “It was my job to protect you. All of you.”

“But I _could_ have protected you,” Caleb went on, slurring his words slightly. “Everyone was so fucking angry. If I hadn’t been tied up, I really think I could have beaten the shit out of him. But I didn’t.” He sobbed noisily. “I couldn't! Fuck! I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Dr. Bright. I’m really sorry.”

“Shh, Caleb.” Joan massaged his forehead. “There was nothing you could have done, and there was nothing you _should_ have done. Like I said, it was my job to prevent this from happening, and I failed. Just get some rest so we can get you back to your parents.”

Tears dripped out of Caleb’s eyes, but he didn’t speak for a long time. Chloe sank down against a wall to rest, and Agent Green checked his phone with a furrowed brow. Joan kept massaging Caleb's head.

“Dr. Bright? Can I have some more of that stuff?” Caleb finally asked. “I still hurt. A lot.”

Joan looked at Agent Green. “Well? He is pretty tall and muscular for the dose we gave him.”

“I think a second dose is a great idea.” Agent Green took another wrapped syringe from the briefcase. “Would you like to do the honors again?”

“Of course.” Joan took the syringe he was offering her. “Okay, Caleb. In three, two, one—”

Caleb barely noticed as Joan injected his other shoulder. “Thanks, Dr. Bright.”

“You’ll feel a lot better soon,” Joan promised him. Inside her head, she was sad for him, but there was also a comfortingly cold, numb, science-y thread about how fascinating it was to see this compound derived from ayahuasca in action at long last, and thank goodness the DMT wasn’t reacting poorly in Caleb the way it did with Class D atypicals.

As far as Chloe could tell, Caleb was either hallucinating or else starting to dream. He didn’t seem bothered by it, either way.

 _‘I sure would like some of whatever Caleb just got,’_ Frank was thinking as he came down the stairs. _‘No, no. Shouldn’t even be considering it. I should stay alert and protect everyone.’_

“Do you have enough of that stuff for Frank?” Chloe asked. “He’s been keeping Caleb anchored for hours, while feeling all the same trauma and everything.”

“I have plenty of medicine for anyone who needs it,” Agent Green assured her.

Frank entered the room and looked around. He’d cleaned his scratches and washed his face, but he still looked tired. Agent Green walked up to him.

“I’m Agent Green,” he said. “You’re Frank, right?”

“Yes, sir.” Frank shook Agent Green’s hand.

“He has medicine for empaths,” Chloe said, giving Frank a meaningful look.

“Oh,” Frank said, pretending he hadn’t just been envious over feeling Caleb’s relief.

“Yes, I do have a medicine for empaths. That is—” Agent Green seemed a little flustered. “You are an empath as well, right?”

“Not exactly,” Frank said. “That is to say, not a natural born one like Caleb.”

“But he still feels people’s emotions,” Chloe pushed. “It still causes him pain, even if it was a military experiment.”

“Ah, yes, I’m familiar with Project Unity,” Agent Green said.

“Would the medicine work on Frank, too?” Chloe asked.

“I don’t see why not.”

Chloe raised an eyebrow at Frank. “Well?”

 _‘No, I shouldn’t,’_ Frank thought. _‘It was my fault Damien found the safehouse. I should make up for it. Stay vigilant. Patrol the premises. Protect everyone. I don’t deserve relief, and I’m not gonna accept any until that guy is caught and locked up.’_

“God!” Chloe exclaimed in irritation, her head pounding. “Can everyone _quit it_ with the self-loathing?!”

“I beg your pardon?” Agent Green asked in surprise.

“Everyone keeps blaming themselves for what happened!” Chloe crossed her arms. “Mark thought he should have watched less-weird porn with Damien, Caleb thinks he should have tackled Damien when he walked in the door, Joan thinks she should have prevented this from happening in the first place, Sam thinks she should have had sex with Mark sooner, Frank thinks he should have prevented Damien from finding the safe house, and you—” Chloe glared at Agent Green. “You think you should have brought Damien in to ‘Tier Five’ months ago so this wouldn’t have happened. It’s getting on my last nerve! Can we all just agree that rape is always 100% the rapist’s fault, and none of us are at all to blame for the jealous, mind-controlling psychopath tying us up and torturing us and raping us?!”

A stunned silence followed her outburst. During the pause, the bathroom door opened, and Sam stuck her wet head out.

“Chloe?” Sam asked. “Oh. Did I interrupt something?”

“No, I was done,” Chloe said. “We were talking about how what happened was Damien’s fault, and _only_ Damien’s fault. And about how there was nothing any of us could have done differently. Isn’t that right?”

“Right,” Joan said immediately, proud of Chloe—even if she couldn't quite believe in her own innocence in the matter. “Absolutely.”

“Oh,” Sam said, guiltily thinking about how she had just been guiltily thinking about what she could have done differently. “Yes. Right. Sorry.”

“What’s wrong, Sam?” Frank asked, suddenly standing a little taller. “You’re afraid?”

“Ah, just a little worried,” Sam said, looking embarrassed. “Um, Chloe, could you—”

Chloe walked toward the bathroom, and as she approached, she could see inside Sam’s head again.

 _‘I don’t know if it’s normal to bleed this much after your first time,’_ Sam was thinking, picturing the wads of bloody toilet paper she’d gone through.

“Definitely not,” Chloe said. “Joan? I think Sam needs to be treated right away.”

“Oh!” Sam glanced in chagrin at Agent Green, just for a second. “I’m just not sure, you know…”

“What’s the problem?” Agent Green asked, perplexed.

_‘I don’t want Agent Green to see me naked. I know that’s silly when everyone just saw me naked for hours, but I can’t bear the thought of it being one more person.’_

“Sam doesn’t want another guy touching her right now,” Chloe said. “But Joan is trained to do the first aid too, right? She could take care of Sam, and Agent Green, you could help me with my head?”

Agent Green glanced at Joan. “Well… Yes, if Joan’s up for it, she could treat Sam’s injuries.”

“Would that be okay?” Joan asked Sam.

Sam nodded.

“Let’s go into one of the bedrooms.” Joan grabbed a packet from the briefcase. “Caleb—”

Caleb snored loudly. Joan smiled sadly. “You’ll get me if he wakes up?”

“Of course,” Agent Green said.

“Thank you. This way, Sam.”

They went into the bedroom and closed the door.

“Did you want some medicine?” Chloe asked Frank.

“I think I’m going to patrol a little first,” he said. “Excuse me.”

He left, his head down as he mentally beat himself up for everything that had just transpired. Chloe wanted to help him, but Frank just wanted to be alone.

“Well, to be honest, I was hoping he would let you examine him while I took a shower,” Chloe said. “Yes, to answer your question, some of the pee smell is coming from me.”

 _'Oh dear, I didn't realize—it's always so hard to avoid this with telepaths.'_ Agent Green looked chagrined. “Ms. Turner, I sincerely apologize—”

“It’s fine,” Chloe assured him. “The smell is really strong in here. Damien peed on me to show his dominance or something. There was a lot of stuff like that. But that’s why I wanted to shower first.”

“Either way is fine for me,” Agent Green said politely. “It depends on whether you would feel more comfortable being treated before standing in the heat, or whether you'd feel better showering before your exam.”

He remembered treating all sorts of atypicals, and all sorts of victims of atypicals. Not all of them were rapes, but many of the cases had been pretty unpleasant or disturbing, and Agent Green had never judged the victim for looking or smelling badly. He had a lot more compassion than Chloe would have guessed, and she respected Joan even more now that she saw this side of Agent Green.

“I think I’d rather shower first,” Chloe said. “I won’t be long though.”

“Call if you need anything,” Agent Green said. “Joan can tend to you if needed.”

“Thanks.”

Chloe found her pajamas and toiletry bag in her suitcase. As she stood under the warm water, she suddenly felt weary down to her bones, but she forced herself to shower quickly. Unlike Sam, Chloe wasn’t bleeding at all. Her head was the only real injury she could find.

She washed her hair with a cleansing conditioner, scrubbed the pee smell out of her skin with her favorite vegan soap, and stepped out of the shower a few minutes later. She dried off with Sam’s damp towel and then pulled on her pajamas.

Agent Green had made four mugs of tea when Chloe emerged from the steamy bathroom. “Ah, Ms. Turner,” he greeted her. “Would you like some tea? There’s cocoa mix as well.”

“Tea sounds great,” Chloe said, taking a mug. “Thanks. I didn’t realize we had tea.”

“I keep tea and cocoa in my SAK briefcase,” Agent Green said.

“What is that, exactly?” Chloe asked.

“A Sexual Assault Kit,” Agent Green explained. “You’d be surprised how often atypical abilities are connected to sexual assaults. Top agents are on call two nights a month to handle after-hours incidents that are… unusual.”

“Like what?” Chloe asked. “Are there a lot of cases of atypicals mind controlling people into raping and torturing each other?”

“No, this is a first,” Agent Green said. “But we have a few contacts in the local police, and occasionally we get called in to assist on their cases in various ways. For example, we can frequently identify whether a crime—not just sexual assault—was committed using an atypical ability, and in many cases we can even catch and put away the culprit. However, far more often, we deal with atypical abilities that emerge during times of crisis. Probably the most common call we get is when a young person’s ability manifests during or after he or she experiences a violent crime from the victim side.”

“Lots of people attacking their rapists?” Chloe asked. “Protecting their families from muggers?”

“Occasionally, but not usually, unfortunately,” Agent Green said. “The ability is rarely controlled or specific enough to help when it emerges. A fairly common scenario is a victim’s hair suddenly changing color during an attack, or a thick fog filling the room. Empathy being triggered by a loved one’s abuse is also common.”

Chloe saw other, more terrible examples in his mind: A teen mother whose telekinesis had unconsciously thrown a bookshelf at her raging boyfriend, killing not only him but also the toddler he’d been shaking. A college student who’d involuntarily turned invisible and watched, frozen and helpless, while his boyfriend had been beaten to death. A slightly younger Agent Green helping while Joan tried to hypnotize a hyperventilating teen girl into unfusing her hips from her rapist's pelvis, where she'd gotten stuck after starting to phase through him and then panicking.

“That’s so awful,” Chloe said, horrified.

“I’m sorry,” Agent Green said. “I didn’t mean to share those cases with you. A lot of what we do is preventing a distraught victim from being involuntarily committed for insisting they experienced something the police think is impossible.”

“And then you take them and lock them up in the AM, instead?” Chloe asked.

Agent Green was appalled. “Not at all! The vast majority of people we get called out to examine are helped by our services. We advocate for not just atypicals, but for their family members, and for non-atypical victims of atypical crimes. We provide medical and psychological treatment, legal advice, and a validating listening ear. We keep criminals off the streets, and we support victims every step of the way, from the immediate aftermath through any legal proceedings and beyond.”

He really meant it, and Chloe could see the people he’d helped still close to a warm spot in his mind.

“And Joan used to do that too?” Chloe asked, surprised she had never seen it in Joan’s thoughts before.

“Yes, though only the last year or so she was with the AM. The cases were sometimes extremely emotionally difficult for Joan for personal reasons, so we used to go together sometimes, back when—” Agent Green suddenly realized he was thinking about when he’d frequently spent the night with Joan, and he frantically tried to steer his thoughts away.

“I already knew you and Joan dated,” Chloe told him.

“Of course,” Agent Green said, but he was a little relieved. “I should have guessed.”

A deep pain surged through Chloe’s head, and she pressed her hand to her forehead. “God, that hurts.”

“Let me take a look.”

Chloe sat down on the coffee table, careful not to knock Agent Green’s things off. He took a larger kit out and dug through it until he found a scope.

“What kind of head injury do you have?” Agent Green asked, studying the lump on Chloe’s head. "How did you get hurt?"

“Damien hit me over the head with a lamp.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Agent Green said. “You seem oriented to where you are. You know what day it is and all that?”

“November eleventh, I’m at Sam’s house, and my name is Chloe,” she said.

“Perfect. May I take a look in your eyes?” he asked.

She appreciated that he was thinking about how important it was to ask for consent for the little things when taking care of a person who had been assaulted. And she liked that he thought of it that way—that he was ‘taking care’ of her.

“Sure, that’s fine,” Chloe said.

Agent Green shone his light in her eyes. “Have you been having any issues with your ability?”

“No,” Chloe said, then, “Well… it still works, if that’s what you mean.”

“Any changes?”

“The… well, the volume, for lack of a better word, is a little on the fritz,” Chloe said. “I didn’t hear you get here at all. And other times, things get way louder than I’m expecting.”

“I see,” Agent Green said. _‘That’s probably a concussion, but she seems well enough for the moment.’_

“Yeah, I think it’s not critical,” Chloe agreed.

Agent Green smiled. “I’ve never been able to get used to telepaths. Conversations are always so surprising. Do you have any other injuries, Ms. Turner?”

“No, nothing that needs to be treated,” Chloe said.

Agent Green’s face turned serious again. “May I ask—did Damien sexually assault you as well?” His thoughts were kind, compassionate, empathetic.

“Yeah.” Chloe sighed. “In Joan’s office, right after he hit me with the lamp.”

“I am so incredibly sorry to hear that, Ms. Turner,” Agent Green said. His brow furrowed. He wanted to ask, but he didn’t want to trigger her or seem nosy, but if he knew the generalities of what Damien had done—

“Yes, he did force others to assault me,” Chloe answered. “He forced Frank to help him hold me down and then rape me in Joan’s office… and… okay, since you already guessed it and since I know you won’t tell Wadsworth any of this as a favor to Joan, yes, he did force Mark to rape me. And Sam. And… well, let’s just say Damien did a lot of awful things, some of them through other people.”

“That’s—” Agent Green didn’t know what to say. He had been afraid of that, but he still felt sick from the idea of Damien doing anything like that to anyone, especially to Joan. “I’m… I’m so sorry, Ms. Turner.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m afraid I’m not sure what else to say. Please let me know if there’s anything I can…”  

Chloe was distracted by Sam’s thoughts suddenly cutting in, like a radio station cutting through static.

_“This will reduce the pain,” Joan was telling Sam. “It’s also a broad spectrum antibiotic and antifungal.”_

_“So, it covers everything, huh?”_

_“Essentially. Now, the stitches will dissolve on their own—”_

The direct input faded to more of an impression; Sam was thinking about how gentle Joan was being and how nice it felt when her fingers massaged the numbing antiseptic cream into Sam’s injured skin. Joan was remembering Sam’s first session and beating herself up for not doing a better job of protecting her patients.

“Ms. Turner?” Agent Green asked.

“Sorry,” Chloe said. “Like I said, the volume is a little on the fritz.”

“You definitely seem to have a concussion,” Agent Green said. “It would really be best if you had a full work-up at the AM.”

“No way,” Chloe said.

“This could be very serious,” Agent Green said. “Your ability could become extremely unpredictable.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” she said.

“Without treatment, you could face permanent issues with your ability,” Agent Green warned. “You might even lose it completely down the road. It’s not unheard of. Just… please think about coming in. I’ll make sure no one gives you any reason for concern if you do.”

Chloe was scared by his dire warning, especially since she knew he wasn’t lying, but she tried not to show it. “I’ll consider it,” she said.

“That’s all I ask,” Agent Green said. “For now, I can give you some pain medicine that won’t make you drowsy. It’s not designed specifically for telepaths or concussions, but it has been proven safe in thousands of Class A patients over the past few decades.”

“Sure, that would be nice,” Chloe said.

She was expecting another syringe, but Agent Green handed her a bottle of pills.

“No more than one every twelve hours, with or without food,” he said. “That’s a two-week supply. And here’s my card, in case you have trouble with them or need more when you’re finished.”

He did this a lot, Chloe realized in surprise. He really enjoyed helping atypicals and making them feel safe and comfortable.

“Thank you.” Chloe took a pill with a swig of tea before putting the card and bottle of pills by the shoes she’d kicked off. “I will.”

Joan emerged from the bedroom just then, Sam a few steps behind her. Sam was thinking about how much better she felt now that she was clean and stitched up and numbed.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Chloe said.

“What?” Sam looked up. “Oh. Thanks, Chlo. How are you?”

“Concussed,” Chloe said cheerfully. “Agent Green gave me some pain meds, though.”

“I can take a look at you now, Chloe,” Joan said, trying to hide how weary and fragile she was.

“Joan, sit down,” Chloe chided her. “Agent Green did a perfectly fine job of examining me.”

“I made tea,” Agent Green offered.

“Oh! Tea. Tea sounds nice. I’d like some tea.” Sam went into the kitchen and took a mug. “Joan? Do you want tea?”

“Yes,” Joan said. “Please.”

_‘Did we have tea here, or does Owen still—’_

“He still does,” Chloe answered Joan’s question.

“Ah.”

Sam brought Joan a mug of tea.

“Thank you,” Joan said.

Before Sam could reply, the door opened, and Frank stepped inside.

“Are you all right?” Chloe asked.

“I’m fine,” Frank said, even though he was loudly not-fine in his own head. “I was just patrolling the grounds.”

“Everything okay out there?” Sam asked.

“Looks like it,” Frank said. “Damien’s long gone.”

“Then will you please let Agent Green give you some medicine?” Chloe asked. “I’m worried about you. The rest of us have gotten patched up and medicated as needed. You should too.”

“I’m all right,” Frank said.

“Stop being stoic!” Chloe tried to take his arm like she usually did while pestering him to be healthy, but he recoiled away from her.

“I don’t need any medicine,” he insisted. _‘I want some. But I damn well don’t deserve any.”_

“Frank.” Chloe crossed her arms. “Can you feel how worried I am about you?”

Frank could feel it, and it made him relent finally. “I guess I would like some of that medicine if you have enough,” he said to Agent Green.

“I have more than enough,” Agent Green said.

He wiped Frank’s shoulder with an alcohol wipe before plunging the syringe into his muscle. Frank took the stinging pain without comment.

“Now, there’s a cup of tea in the kitchen for you,” Agent Green said briskly. “I hope it’s not too cold.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Frank said. “That’s very kind.”

There was an awkward pause. It took Chloe a moment to understand all four of the jumbled thoughts she was hearing at once.

“Okay, wow.” She rubbed her head. “First of all, no, I don’t feel safe here either. I was thinking maybe my mom could come pick us up and we could all sleep there?”

“That sounds good,” Sam said in relief.

 _‘I would feel safe there,’_ Frank thought. _‘Not sure I could look Mrs. Turner in the eye, though, after what I did to her baby girl.’_

“Stop that,” Chloe said firmly. “Second of all, yeah, I’m also tired. We could lie down in one of the bedrooms until my mom gets here.”

That would get Sam and Frank off their unsteady feet while giving Agent Green and Joan the privacy they were hoping for.

“I think that sounds like a great idea,” Sam said. “Frank?”

“I’ll lie down,” Frank said, growing sleepy from the shot. “Thank you again for the medicine, Agent Green.”

“Any time,” Agent Green responded.

~~~

Five minutes later, Chloe was lying awake in one of the beds. Sam snored gently, clinging tightly to Chloe’s arm and shoulder in her sleep. Frank dozed on his back, as close to the edge as he could comfortably get.

“Well,” Agent Green said. “I’m afraid I don’t have any pharmaceuticals for non-atypicals, but I can treat your injuries.”

“I don’t need anything,” Joan said.

“No evidence collection, per your request,” Agent Green said. “Just treating your injuries. I promise.”

“I don’t need treatment,” Joan lied.

“Joan, please. This is not the time to be stubborn. You know I’m a professional. You’ve seen me in the field dozens of times. Please let me take care of you, at least any assault-related injuries.”

“I don’t—I wasn’t—”

“Joan. I know you better than that.”

Joan took a shaky breath. “All right. If you must.”

“Thank you. Is anything hurting especially badly?”

“Nothing other than what you would expect. Some minor tearing, I think.”

Chloe could hear Agent Green’s pain almost as loudly as she’d heard Caleb’s. She realized Agent Green must be an empath of the non-atypical variety, because Joan’s pain hurt him like it was his own.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you, Joan,” he said.

Joan didn’t answer.

“May I ask—” Agent Green expected Joan to say no, regardless of the question. “You know the procedure.”

“No protection, no toys or objects, no lubrication,” Joan said clinically. “Only one… perpetrator.”

“I’m so sorry, Joan.” He was giving Chloe an impression of himself tenderly disinfecting Joan’s injuries. “You don’t have to tell me, but… Did Damien rape you himself? Or did he force Mark to do it?”

Joan’s brain buzzed with alarm. “How the hell could you possibly… Did—Have you been spying on us? Here, at this safehouse?!”

“Of course not,” Agent Green said. “It was just a hunch.”

“I don’t like when you have hunches,” Joan said.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to distress you.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“Because I care about you. And because I want to know where Damien’s going to go next, and whether he might harm anyone else.”

Agent Green used the handheld machine to automatically insert two dissolvable stitches where Mark had torn Joan earlier. Joan barely reacted to the pain.

“Joan, I’m worried about you. How are you coping?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you?” Agent Green's gloved fingers gently wiped away blood and rubbed more of the numbing disinfectant over the stitches. “No flashbacks?”

Joan didn’t respond. She just quietly pulled her clothes into the right position again.

Agent Green removed his gloves. “Joan?”

“I… yes.”

“Yes, you did have flashbacks?”

“Yes.” Joan said, and then finally began to cry again. “Of my father. And Mark, of Mark _seeing_ us.”

“Oh, Joan…” Agent Green reached out but stopped just short of touching her. “May I hug you?”

Joan threw herself into his arms and cried into his chest. “Owen, I lost him. _Again_.”

Agent Green kissed her forehead and held her protectively. _‘I don’t know how to make this better,’_ he thought, just like Mark had. “Joan, I am so incredibly sorry this happened to you. I will personally do everything I can to make sure Damien is caught and punished to the fullest extent of the AM’s ability—”

“Mark is gone!” Joan wept.”I know you don't care about him, but—”

“Of course I care about him, Joan. And I'm going to put the full resources of the AM to work finding Damien.”

Joan was afraid that would make everything worse and Ellie would take Mark and never give him back this time. Not if Mark had seemingly been complicit in raping three people and kidnapping Adam. But she didn't know what to do, and she was too tired to make a decision, and she didn't want to say something she regretted because she needed Owen's help. And not just his resources. She didn't feel like she could lean on anyone else right then, and for the first time in her adult life, she _needed_ to lean on someone. She felt like a scared teenager again, the same way Mark had regressed under stress earlier.

“I don’t know what to do,” Joan said. “I need to take care of everyone. Everything. But I can’t even take care of myself right now. I don't know what to do.”

She wanted her father to be there, telling her what to do again. And that just made her feel worse about everything.

“Here’s what you need to do,” Agent Green said, gently cupping Joan's face in his hands. “You need to let Vanessa take Chloe, Sam, and Frank. You need to let me inform Ellie that Damien has Adam so she can do her job. And you need to get Caleb somewhere safe. Would his parents be equipped to handle things if he has another episode when he wakes up?”

“Not especially, no. I’d rather keep an eye on him until he wakes up.”

“Then how about if I take you two back to my home. It’s familiar to you, but you won’t be alone. You can take my bed, and we’ll put Caleb in my guest room. I can sleep on the blow-up mattress near him in case anything goes wrong. How does that sound?”

Joan hesitated, then nodded. She had every intention of convincing Agent Green to share the bed with her so he could hold her, but she was content to play coy for the moment.

A knock on the door startled everyone who was still awake. When Chloe sensed her mother’s mind outside, she quickly detached herself from Sam and climbed out of the bed. She arrived at the front door just as Agent Green was opening it.

“My baby.” Vanessa stepped inside and pulled Chloe into a tight hug before anyone could say hello. “Are you okay? What is this bump on your head?! Oh, my sweet baby, I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

She kissed the lump on Chloe’s head and stroked her hair. Chloe remembered how she’d worried in Joan’s office she would never see her mother again, and the tears she’d lost hours ago returned at once.

“Mom.” Chloe hugged her mother as hard as she could. “Mom, please take me home.”

“I am,” Vanessa promised, kissing all over Chloe’s face. “Let’s get your friends and go home.”

Ten minutes later, as Vanessa buckled Darwin's carrier into the middle back seat, Chloe was so relieved she could barely keep her eyes open. She finally dozed off against the window as the vibrations of her mother's car lulled her to sleep like a baby.


	8. Epilogue

The three weeks following Damien’s attack revealed coping mechanisms in the group that fascinated Chloe, in a future-social-worker kind of way.

Sam locked herself in her apartment and didn’t come out for anything.

Frank got even quieter than usual, and he still had trouble looking Chloe in the eyes sometimes.

Caleb missed a lot of school and clung to Chloe or Joan whenever he could, insisting their emotions were the most calming next to Adam’s.

Joan buried herself in her work, trying to track down Damien and Mark every spare minute she had. (And, though Chloe was too polite to mention it to anyone, she knew Joan's need to spend every night at Owen's and then have sex with him as soon as she'd healed was rooted in more than just November 11th.)

And for her part, Chloe found herself sleeping a lot and making sure everyone was eating enough and taking care of themselves. It was healing to take everyone food and remind them to sleep and listen and comfort them while they confessed their emotional pain to her. But the delicious-smelling cookies currently baking in Sam’s oven on that December morning were for celebration, not consolation.

“Ugh, seriously, I can’t get over how gorgeous your ring is!” Sam grabbed Chloe’s hand again and admired the silver ring again. “Your mom really just gave it to Frank?”

“Yeah!” Chloe beamed. “She said she always hoped I would wear her grandmother's rings, you know, since she— my mom—isn’t married. But she was worried whoever I married might want to buy their own rings for me, or that I might not get married because of the ace thing—”

“I was meaning to ask, how will that work? Like, being married… I know this sounds totally ignorant, but I wasn’t sure that was something you’d be into?”

“It’s a non-issue, I’m pretty sure.” Chloe shrugged. “I was starting to think Frank might be ace too, and then with what happened, he’s really repulsed by the idea of sex right now. But either way, we have a really strong connection. I care about him a lot. He doesn't expect anything from me, ever, and I would be okay with having sex with him, if it’s a need he has sometimes in the future. I can enjoy parts of it, like feeling connected to the other person and taking care of their needs. But for the foreseeable future, we're both totally fine with not having sex.”

“That’s so romantic,” Sam said. “Okay, sorry, carry on. Your mom wanted you to have the rings?”

“Yes! Okay, so when Frank asked her for permission to marry me—”

“I still can't get over how sweet that is!”

“Well, he knows how close we are. So he asked, and she gave her blessing, but then they ended up talking about me and, like, the whole situation in general, and I guess he admitted he couldn't afford a big ring, so she went up and got the rings for him. It worked out so perfectly!”

“Wait, so you didn’t hear either of them thinking about the proposal at all?”

“No! That’s the part that worries me, honestly.” Chloe frowned. “I was seriously thinking about taking Agent Green up on the offer for a real exam at the AM, but now... there’s no way I’d go there for anything. Especially if it turns out Damien is…” Chloe shuddered, unable to finish the thought.

 _‘Yikes, yeah,’_ Sam thought. _‘Let’s not ruin our happy celebration. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts.’_

“So, I know it’s less than a month away, but Frank and I were talking about getting married around Christmas.” Chloe steered the conversation back to her engagement. “Maybe Christmas Eve or New Year’s Day?”

“That would be so romantic!” Sam’s eyes lit up. “I’m invited, right?”

“Oh, totally!” Chloe grinned. “Actually, I came over here to ask a favor.”

“What is it?”

Chloe grabbed a small jewelry box from her purse and knelt in front of Sam with a flourish. She snapped open the lid to reveal a clock pendant on a silver chain.

“Sam, my wonderful time-traveling best friend,” Chloe said very solemnly, “will you make me the happiest telepath ever by being my maid of honor in a wedding I’m having in, like, three weeks?”

“Of course!” Sam laughed. “Wow, that’s so pretty. I hope you didn’t spend a ton of money on it. I would have said yes without it.”

“Nah, I found it in a thrift store,” Chloe said. “Frank helped me get it working again.”

“It’s beautiful!” Sam slipped the necklace over her head. “Thank you, Chloe. And yes, of course I’ll be your maid of honor. What do I need to do? Plan the showers and bachelorette party?”

Chloe made a face. “To be honest, I’m probably not going to be up for much partying for a while, and I don’t even know how I’d begin to explain this to my friends. I’m leaning toward the elopement side of things. Like, elopement, but with my closest friends involved.”

“That’s probably more my style too,” Sam said. “How about a Harry Potter movie marathon slash sleepover? I could probably manage pizza and a hot chocolate bar. I can invite Joan, too. And your mom?”

“That sounds perfect!” Chloe felt slightly giddy from all the exciting plans happening so soon. “Thank you, Sam. It means a lot just to have you in my life.”

“Aw, Chloe!” Sam hugged her. “Same here.”

“And like I said, I don’t think my other friends would understand any part of this,” Chloe said.

“You think they would judge you?” Sam asked.

“Maybe. Or they might think I was judging _them._ It’s like me not eating meat—I don’t judge people who do, but they assume I do.” Chloe sighed. “People don’t get that I can know something is right for me but also know it’s not necessarily right for everyone else.”

“I see what you mean,” Sam said. “Well, I think you should do whatever makes you happy! And I’m so, so happy for you, and so excited you want me to be your maid of honor! I will totally do the best job I can!”

“Thanks, Sam,” Chloe said. “I appreciate you.”

“Gah, so much is happening!” Sam began to pace. “I still can’t believe you’re getting married! And so soon!”

“Me neither,” Chloe admitted. “I have wondered a few times whether it's a good idea to get married, especially so soon after a major trauma. I mean, it’s not the 1600s anymore! I don’t _have_ to get married.”

“But you want to,” Sam guessed.

“Yup.” Chloe couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “Or, I want to get married to Frank, at least. It feels right, even without the circumstances.”

“It really does. You two are great together. God, Chloe, I'm so happy for you!” Sam’s eyes sparkled. _‘I'm just slightly envious because I’m a terrible person and can only think about myself even when my friend is going through something way worse and also getting married, which is super exciting, and all I can think about is how my stupid relationship ended in my boyfriend raping and torturing me then leaving with his… his ex? I don’t know what they were. Are. Ugh! Why can I not just stop thinking about it and be 100% happy for Chloe?!'_

“Oh, Sam.” Chloe hugged her tightly. “I promise, Mark didn't mean any of that stuff. He loved you and was so scared Damien would seriously hurt you. He would never—”

Chloe heard Mark’s thoughts before she heard _him._ It was surprising in both its old familiarity and its fresh rawness. It was more of a preoccupied whirlwind of worry and love and fear than it was any coherent stream of thoughts, but Chloe would recognize that intense thought pattern anywhere.

“Mark’s back,” Chloe said, just before there was a knock on the door.

“Mark?” Sam ran to open the door. “Mark! It is you!”

“Hey.” Mark gave her a tired smile but stepped back, skirting her hug. _‘No, don’t hug me. I haven’t showered in two days, and I was inside Damien's ass between that shower and now, and I’m terrified to look at you let alone touch you after what I did to you last time I saw you, because holy fuck—’_

"Hey, Mark." Chloe joined Sam at the door. _‘Cut yourself some slack,’_ she thought. _‘No one blames you for what happened. Other than you.'_

“It’s—it’s good to see you,” Sam stammered. Her fragile confidence had plummeted at Mark’s refusal to hug her, making her doubt all Chloe’s previous assurances about Mark’s motives and true interest in Damien. “Come in.”

 _‘Great,’_ Mark thought, stepping inside. _‘And now on top of everything else, she thinks I hate her. Chloe, can you—?’_

 _‘On it.’_ Chloe hugged Sam tightly, then kissed her chastely on the lips. At Mark’s wishful musing, Chloe kissed Sam a little more deeply, tucking the hair behind her ear and touching her warm, soft cheek so Mark could experience it telepathically. “That’s from Mark,” she said in response to Sam’s pink, confused face. “He loves you and wants to do that for himself— _later._  He just doesn’t want to be touched by anyone right now.”

“Oh,” Sam said. “Oh! God, of course. We’ve been recovering for weeks, but you only just—Are you okay? What happened?”

“Uhh…” Mark’s mind flashed back to sneaking Damien’s phone to Adam, then seducing Damien before he could notice it was gone. “Long story.”

Chloe vicariously remembered having gut-turning flashbacks in the back of an AM van, even while comforting a shackled and drugged Damien while he cried. She only had vague impressions of the sensory details in the background—muted Christmas music, Adam and Wadsworth arguing about whether Mark was dangerous—but she could almost feel Damien's sweaty hands clinging to her own. Whatever had happened afterward was a blur—somehow Ellie had dumped Mark in front of Joan's apartment, but Joan hadn't been there, so Mark had walked miles to Sam’s place, and he was _so fucking goddamn thirsty._

“Wadsworth has Damien?” Chloe asked.

“Yeah,” Mark croaked. “That's the gist of it. Is Joan here?”

“No, she got a call from Agent Green that they were bringing you into the AM,” Chloe said, grabbing a cup and filling it with water for Mark. “I can call her if you want to get cleaned up.”

Mark gratefully chugged down the water she handed him. He refilled the cup and chugged that one down too, sighing in relief when it was empty.

“Yeah, a shower would be amazing," Mark said breathlessly as he set his cup on the counter. "Is that okay?”

“Of course,” Sam said. “Let me grab you some clean towels.”

Chloe locked the front door while Sam got Mark set up in the shower and then laid out some clothes he’d left at her place.

“Take as long as you need,” Sam said as Mark closed the bathroom door. Her shoulders slumped as she returned to Chloe. “Well. That could have gone better.”

“He really loves you,” Chloe promised Sam. “He’s just more freshly traumatized than us.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Sam asked.

“Just give him space,” Chloe said. “Let him get out of survival mode.” She frowned. “Did he look skinnier to you?”

“Uhh.” Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. I can't remember.”

“I’m going to make some lunch for us. What do you have?”

Sam helped, distracted, while Chloe opened pantry doors and dug through the freezer. She was thinking that she had expected to feel better once Mark was back and Damien was safely captured, but she felt worse than ever. _‘I don’t think the anxiety will ever go away,’_ she thought. _‘I don’t think I’ll ever stop wondering what Damien and Mark did for those three weeks, and I don’t think I’ll ever stop worrying that Damien is just one susceptible guard away from escaping and killing me. What did Mark do with Damien? Was there a real connection there, like Damien said? Gah! I just can't stop thinking about it! Maybe I really should fake my own death and go into hiding so Damien can't find me if he breaks out.’_

Chloe couldn’t think of anything comforting enough to say, so she just hugged Sam while the water reached a boil.

By the time Mark stopped the shower, Chloe had called Joan, pulled the cookies out of the oven, and set out sandwiches and a pot of soup. Sam pulled plates and bowls and silverware out of the cabinets. A moment later, Mark stepped out of the bathroom, full of confidence now that he smelled nice and sported clean clothes, a clean shave, and slicked back hair. Despite not being a mind reader, Sam took notice the second he walked into the room.

“Wow, Mark,” she said breathlessly. “You look really nice.”

In response, Mark swept her into a dip and kissed her. _‘I’ve been dreaming about doing that for weeks,’_ he thought.

 _‘Oh wow,’_ Sam thought as she kissed him desperately. _‘I missed him so much.’_

“I missed you too,” Mark murmured between kisses. “I missed you every second of every day.”

_‘I was scared you didn’t love me.’_

“I love you more than anything, Sam.”

Chloe let them make out and think mushy thoughts for a few minutes before clearing her throat. “Sorry to interrupt,” she said, “but lunch is ready, if you’re hungry. I know I am.”

Sam and Mark straightened up.

“It smells great,” Mark said. “Do you have enough for a third person?”

“Oh, I made this specifically for you,” Chloe said. “You look like you could use a good meal.”

“You’re amazing.” Mark grabbed a bowl and ladled soup in. “Thank you.”

“Any time.” Chloe smiled as Mark served himself. She loved when people enjoyed her food. Besides, she would need to step up her cooking game now that she was about to be married and way more broke and busy than ever—

Mark froze with the ladle raised mid-air and looked at her in horror.

“Oh _shit."_ He gulped. "You’re—and you don’t know which one of us—Jesus Christ.”

“No, Mark,” Chloe said calmly. “I _do_ know.”

“But—”

"Stop. I can tell you're about to have a panic attack over this, but just let me show you.”

She let him see her memory from the night before, of Frank down on one knee in the college planetarium after the free stargazing event, holding Chloe’s great-grandmother’s ring up to her.

_“Chloe, I’ve been thinking about how blood doesn’t make a family. I certainly consider you and your mother my family, and we’re not blood. Family is just care and commitment, about being there every day for someone. It's about supporting them and doing what's best for them. And whatever the tests show, if you want to get them done, I just want you to know—that stuff's not what makes a family. It’s showing up every day and sticking it out when it’s hard. And that's what I want to do. I love you, Chloe, and I want us to be family forever. In the legal sense. So I know the timing is not good, but it's not like any other time would be better, so will you—”_

_Chloe hadn’t been able to resist anymore. “Yes!” She’d kissed Frank. “Yes, I want to marry you!"_

“See?” Chloe moved a sandwich to her own plate. “I know all I need to know.”

Mark relaxed, but only slightly. “Chloe, I'm so sorry—”

“Don't worry about it,” Chloe said firmly. “I'm happy, and Frank and my mom are happy, and that's all that matters. I trust the universe’s master plan. So stop feeling guilty! Why don't you and Sam go catch up over lunch? I’ll bring cookies to you two when they're cool.”

“Thanks, Chloe,” Sam said.

“Yeah, thanks,” Mark said, still on the verge of a total meltdown.

Sam looped her arm in Mark's, and he let her. They went into Sam’s bedroom, closing the door most of the way. Chloe could still hear them a little in reality, and a little more in their thoughts.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” Sam said. “I was so scared for you.”

Mark guiltily remembered laughing with Damien over huge burgers, letting Damien hand-feed him cornbread, making out with him in the hotel shower while Adam tried to sleep with the TV on—

“I’m sorry I worried you,” he said. “I was worried about you, too. How are you doing? Any more seizures? Any infections?”

“No, thankfully,” Sam said. “I’m mostly healed from… you know. From all of that.”

“Yeah. Wait, what do you mean, ‘The stitches dissolved?’ You got stitches? Wait, Joan too?!” Mark asked in despair. “Jesus fucking Christ. Is there anyone whose life I didn’t destroy?”

 _‘Don’t be dramatic, Mark.'_  Chloe chided him. _'We’re okay now. And you had no control over it.’_

“You didn’t destroy our lives,” Sam promised him. “I'm just so glad you’re okay, and I know Joan is too!”

She tried to touch him, but Mark pulled away.

"Mark, you can talk to me," Sam said. "I'm your girlfriend. I mean—I am still your girlfriend, right?"

"I hope so," Mark said.  _'I've been hoping so. I don't know if you still want me to be your boyfriend after everything I've done.'_

"Mark, what happened with you and Damien?" Sam asked. "I know it's none of my business. But it kind of is! I mean, as your girlfriend, if you still  _want_ me to still be your girlfriend, I just—I've been worrying so much! And I didn't know if, if Damien was hurting you, or if you were really in love with him, or if I would ever see you again, or if you meant those things you said. I want to help you! I just... I wish I knew where I stood, and where you stood, and what happened after you left, and—" She took a deep breath. "I'm not trying to be nosy. I'm just worried."

"Sorry," Mark said, evading her questions nonetheless. "I didn't want you to worry."

"Why not?" Sam asked anxiously. "Because you didn't want to be with me like that anymore?"

"No! God, can we not do this right now? I can't think about what happened. I just got back. I really just wanted to hide away from the world with you, like we used to."

"I'm sorry," Sam said.  _'I can't believe I'm so insecure. Great going, Sam!_ _Interrogating my boyfriend out of jealousy the second he comes back from being a hostage. I'm as bad as Damien.'_

"You're nothing like him," Mark interrupted her thoughts. "And I know you've been scared and hurt, and I hate that. I promise I'll talk about it eventually. Just... not right now. Right now, I need some rest. And maybe a scotch."

"I'm so sorry." Sam pulled the blankets on her bed down for him. "Why don't you take a nap? I'll find Darwin for you. I don't think I have any scotch, but I might have some wine. Do you need anything else?"

"No, I'm fine, really, Sam," Mark said. "Stop worrying."

 _‘Great,’_ Mark thought as he tried to calm himself. _‘Sam is comforting me, now. After what I did to her, I should be the one comforting her. I shouldn’t have come back.’_

 _‘You know somewhere deep down it’s not like that,’_ Chloe chided him.

Mark let her glimpse the genuinely romantic thoughts he'd had while stargazing with Damien, cuddling with Damien, making violent love to Damien on every surface of a dozen hotel rooms. He let Chloe see how much he'd meant it when he told Damien things like, "Of course you're way better at sex than Sam. She and I weren't compatible that way. I thought you already knew that." and, "Yeah, I could see me and you being soulmates, if such a thing exists."

 _'You're a good person, Mark,'_  Chloe assured him.  _'The fact that you can find the good in someone like Damien and worry about him after everything he's done doesn't make you a bad person. It means you have a good heart.'_

_'And enjoying hurting people? Like Sam?'_

_'Most of you didn't enjoy it.'_

"We could lie down together?" Sam offered.

"I'd really like that," Mark said.

As Sam hugged Mark to her chest, his confusion peaked. He loved smelling her and being close to her, but he hated that he was still comparing her to Damien. He didn't want to be with Damien, but he also didn't want to be without him, but he didn't want to be without Sam, either. But touching her again had brought back all the memories of hurting her, of  _enjoying_ hurting her. He tried to re-focus.

"How have you been?" Mark asked. "Like,  _really_ been. Not the surface stuff."

"I've been okay, all things considered," Sam said.  _'That's... not really a lie, right? I've been traveling more and leaving the house less, well, technically, I haven't left the house at all, but what exactly is the normal standard for mental health after being raped and tortured by your mind-controlled boyfriend? Especially when he left you to be with the mind-controller, and you've spent almost every waking moment since then worried for your boyfriend and terrified that the mind-controlling sociopath will come back and kill you? Yeah, I think I've been okay, all things considered. I can't wear scarves or sleep on my back without having flashbacks and I still feel "sprained" but yeah, I'm okay, I guess.'_

"Sam, I am so, so sorry," Mark said. "I don't think I can ever—" He hated that he was choking on the words; he didn't deserve to cry, especially not in front of someone he'd hurt so much. He tried to get up. "I should just go—"

"Mark, stay, please," Sam begged. _'Please don't leave me again.'_

Mark took a deep breath, trying to keep from losing control. "Probably not the reunion you were hoping for, huh?" he tried to joke. "I knew I should have grabbed a board game on the way."

"You don't have to be strong all the time," Sam reminded him. "We used to be vulnerable with each other all the time, remember?"

"That was different," Mark said.  _'I was never vulnerable over hurting you until you had a seizure.'_

"I don't care," Sam said. "I miss that. I've missed you so much, Mark. Please don't shut me out now that you're back. Please let me take care of you."

 _'It would make her feel a lot better,'_  Chloe encouraged Mark.  _'Stop thinking about what you do or don't deserve and let her feel close to you. Or do you not want to feel close to her?'_

 _'No, I do. I really, really do.'_ Mark began to sob into Sam's chest. "Sam."

"It's okay." Sam stroked Mark's hair while he cried. "I promise, Mark. Everything's okay now."

It would never be okay for Mark, not while he still remembered her turning blue during that seizure, and not while Damien was being tortured by the AM. But he was still thoroughly relieved to cry into his girlfriend's cleavage, and to hear his girlfriend's sweet assurances, and to still have a girlfriend alive and willing to do that for him. Chloe smiled.

 _'Okay, I'm going to stop eavesdropping,'_ she thought, taking a cookie off the sheet.  _'Help yourself to cookies when you two get up.'_

Mark barely noticed her thought. He was too busy releasing a month's worth of trauma in the form of tears.

Chloe grabbed her purse and coat and headed downstairs. Pain pulsed through her head as she stepped into the sunlight, making her stop to cover her eyes and catch her breath. It had been worse the past few days, since she'd stopped taking the pain medicine.

 _'Damien sure did a number on me,'_ she thought as she boarded the bus.  _'On all of us. Poor Mark. I hope his pain eases soon. Sam's idea of going into hiding sounds better all the time. Not right away, though—I really want the wedding to be here.'_

She smiled despite the pain at that thought. She was getting married, and Sam was her maid of honor, and Joan was back together with the person she wanted to be with, and Frank was excited to be marrying Chloe, and Adam and Mark were finally back and physically unharmed (if a little emotionally wrecked). It was crazy how things could be so painful but so wonderful at the same time.

Chloe sent off a series of encouraging texts to everyone she could think of, and then she rested her head against the cool bus window until her stop came.


End file.
